Home at Last
by Sharkeygirl
Summary: Snape yearns for peace in death, but the cosmos has other plans. When he finds himself in the center of a celestial wager, will he decide that love leads to freedom, or will he reject love in favor of solitude?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Happy New Year! I owe everyone a huge apology for not posting a story when I'd initially said I would. I know that I promised s new story by October, but moving was a lot more complicated than I thought, grad school ate up more time than I thought it would, real life attacked mid-October, and to top it all off, I got writer's block. The old story was not salvageable, so I had to stop, until I can find a better way to write it, which at the moment I can't. I know those are just excuses, but I do feel terrible. So, over break I decided to work on a story I'd been kicking around for awhile. I hope it was worth the wait, and again, I'm very sorry for the delay.**

**Some of you may know that I usually post daily. I will not do that for this story. I am currently writing a thesis which is taking up considerable time, and classes are, well classes. I will regularly update though. I'm aiming to update twice a week at least, perhaps more if I get the chapters written (I have quite a few already). So yeah, sorry I can't update everyday. **

**In other much more exciting news, I now have an editor, Heartmom88, and a Britpick, Marianne Le Fey. I thank both of them for all their time and help. I couldn't have written this story without them. Also, thank you for reading! I appreciate it! **

**For the record, I don't own anything you'd recognize. If I did, I would be considerably wealthier than I am at the moment.  
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The pain had eased.

His muscles had stopped convulsing.

Potter's footsteps and those of his friends had faded into the night.

A bright light swept over, then suddenly through him, filling him with a curious sensation…

Could this be peace at last?

* * *

><p>If he had arrived at the afterlife, it certainly was a busy place. Severus Snape awoke to the slap of sandals on stone and the swish of white togas bustling past to take a seat in one of the marble thrones encircling him. Eyes peered at him with interest, but oddly enough, not curiosity. It was as if they recognized him… and had expected him… although nothing about this place or these people was familiar to him. Hushed murmurs of conversation relieved the brittle silence but all eyes remained focused on Snape. Discomfited by the weight of their stares, his gaze turned to the podium in front of him. He swallowed with uncharacteristic nervousness before reaching out to touch the marble surface, desperate to feel something tangible.<p>

He couldn't.

A sharp tattoo of heels on marble broke his concentration. He turned to see an imperious woman in royal purple robes approach, her lips drawn in a smirk, her eyes bright with triumph. She stood to the right of Snape and snapped her fingers, summoning another stone podium from the smooth marble floor. She folded her hands and placed them on the podium as though the display of power was nothing. Severus fought to keep his composure. What sort of place was this? The others nodded a welcome to the newcomer, but otherwise took no note of this turn of events, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to summon stones.

A second woman with long billowing blond hair and a soft smile was the last to take her place in the circle. She stood beside Snape, never uttering a word to him.

The sky suddenly darkened and a bolt of lightning plunged to the ground, scorching the stone a few feet from Snape. Those assembled rose silently as a wisp of smoke emanated from the scorch mark, coalescing into a majestic figure dressed in scarlet. His beard was unnaturally white and trimmed short to frame his regal features. His eyes blazed with authority. Muscles rippled beneath the toga that only partially concealed their strength.

"The mighty Zeus!"

A short nod acknowledged the announcement. "Why did you call us here, Demeter?"

Snape suppressed a shudder at the sound of his voice, which vibrated the stone beneath him.

"Hades has failed," Demeter declared, her face aglow with triumph. "The terms of the wager were that he must successfully seduce my daughter in order to live with her forever. See! He has died and Persephone remains untouched!"

Demeter? Hades? Persephone? Who were these people? What was this woman going on about?

The blond woman with the serene smile demurred. "The wager is to be settled upon the surrender of Persephone's womanhood. The termination of Hades' life changes nothing."

"How can a dead man seduce a woman?" Demeter argued. "You _are_ dead, are you not, Hades?"

"My name is Severus Snape. I haven't the slightest idea who any of you are, nor what you are discussing. I can assure you that I have been trying to seduce no one."

"He's lying…." Demeter frowned.

"Silence!" Zeus interrupted.

All eyes turned to the deity. "There is an explanation for your confusion, but I cannot disclose it until a decision has been reached concerning your destiny."

"What destiny?" Severus responded. "I am dead."

"If you were truly dead, you'd know who we are and what we are discussing," smiled the blonde, her soft locks flowing in the breeze. Turning to the others she announced, "He still has some connection with his human body."

"Not for much longer," Demeter argued. "The serpent's poison needs only a few minutes to complete its task…."

"Since when do we mark time?"

"We will not rush this verdict, Demeter," Zeus said with finality. Aphrodite makes an interesting point. Death was not mentioned in the original wager."

"But it should be a mitigating factor. How can he form any sort of relationship with my daughter if he has no earthly body?"

"Your daughter lives in a world inhabited by ghosts, doesn't she?" Aphrodite reasoned. "He could begin to court her in the form of a ghost."

It appears that even the afterlife will hold no peace for me, Severus mused. Is there no end to the number of people who hold claim to my life?

"But he would have a much more difficult time seducing her."

"Perhaps not," a new voice cut in.

All eyes turned to Apollo, a handsome figure wearing a crown of laurel and holding a golden lyre. He stood to address the assembly, "You forget, Demeter, that if you allow Hades to shed his human form, he will remember everything."

"She will believe him to be mad if he tries to tell her the full story."

"Not if he is allowed to assume his godly form," Aphrodite smiled. "You may remember that Hades can strike quite the seductive pose when pressed."

Demeter flushed in anger. "That would violate the terms of our wager. It was always assumed that Hades would be in his human form which, incidentally, is dying."

"From the bite of a snake _you_ created," Apollo admonished. "It would seem that you have unfairly interfered in an attempt to sway the Fates."

"There was no such limit on my influence." Demeter protested, gaining little sympathy from the assembly. "Look, he had his chance with my daughter…"

"Who is only now of age," Aphrodite interrupted. "You knew that his hands were tied until she completed her schooling because of their age difference and her social position relative to his."

"Which is why the Quidditch athlete was a much better option," Demeter mumbled.

"The red-head?" Aphrodite smirked incredulously.

Demeter produced a scowl that even Snape had to agree rivalled the best of his own. "No one can accuse my daughter of having good taste." Demeter turned to face Snape. "Just look at him."

"Madame, I have no idea who your daughter is. I have only ever loved one woman, and she did not marry a red-head." Snape responded.

"As you say," Demeter replied cagily.

"If she _did_ marry the red-head…." Aphrodite taunted mischievously.

"Allow me to deal with my daughter," Demeter cut in. "Right now we're discussing _him_!"

"Apollo, what do you believe to be just in this situation?" Zeus asked, his voice betraying his irritation with his former mistress.

"I believe that Hades deserves to prove himself without interference. Persephone has only now come of age and she is still untouched. The conditions of the wager did not stipulate that Hades had to be alive in human form, but even if they did, there is still a chance that his body can be saved. It is only just to send him back for the opportunity to complete his quest."

"No!" Snape roared.

All eyes turned to him. "No?" Demeter raised a haughty brow.

"No. I have tired of life and all the obligations that accompany it. I want to die. I want to be at peace. Please, I beg you, release me from your wager and let me die," Snape pleaded.

Demeter stared thoughtfully at the distraught man. "Should we not take his opinion into account?"

"He is not capable of making an informed decision," Apollo countered. "His memories were voluntarily surrendered as a condition of the wager. If he could see his memories, he might very well feel differently."

"Whose side are you on?" Demeter demanded.

"Persephone's," Apollo responded. "I wish her happiness, even if it results in being with him."

"He can't make her happy," Demeter argued.

"That is for her to decide," Apollo replied. "Not you."

Demeter glared at Apollo.

Zeus took a deep breath. "This was the original agreement, Hades."

"For the last time, I am not Hades. My name is Severus Snape. I have no knowledge of a wager and no knowledge of a young woman waiting for me. I have done all I can in my human life and I am tired. All I want is a little peace." Snape was shaking by the end of his speech.

"Would you reconsider if I told you this was about the woman in your dreams?" murmured Aphrodite softly.

Snape stared at her in horror. "How…?"

"You remember her, don't you…"

"She can't say that!" Demeter began.

"Demeter, be quiet!"

"She was just an illusion, a trick of my imagination in my despair."

"She exists and she is waiting for you."

Snape stared at Aphrodite, her eyes soft with compassion for him. "I know how poorly the world has treated you," Aphrodite quietly continued, "But I think you will find that your circumstances will drastically improve if you resolve to live for love."

"Living for love is what got me here in the first place."

"I can promise you an even greater love, if only you will choose to live."

"How is this possible?"

"It's what I do," Aphrodite winked.

"She can't promise you love," Demeter argued. "She just wants to prolong your suffering. You may find that woman and perhaps even hold her for a time, but she will release you just as Lily did."

"You speak quite harshly of our daughter," Zeus admonished.

"The truth _is_ harsh. He kidnapped my Persephone, took her against her will and tricked her into marriage! If she had had the freedom, she would have chosen someone else. Even now as I speak, she is choosing someone else, just as I predicted! Send this one back if you must, but leave my daughter alone to choose her husband without interference."

Snape took a deep breath. "I do not know who you think I am, and I am past caring. I only want to be at peace."

"No one can make that guarantee in this world or the next," Zeus cautioned.

"But I can promise you a chance at happiness… a chance at love, if you are willing to accept it," Aphrodite offered, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

"Fine." Severus sighed in defeat. "I will agree to return and complete this wager, whatever it is."

"You will not regret it," Aphrodite assured him.

Yes he will, Demeter thought, at least if I have anything to do with it.

"Eros!" Aphrodite called.

A winged man flew to her side, looking for all the world like a very odd Valentine decoration. "Yes, mother!"

"Escort this man back to his body, and please make sure someone finds him."

Eros smirked, "Yes, mother," and with a flutter of wings they were gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The gods have an American speech pattern in order to distinguish them from the wizards, hence the lack of British spellings and terms. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks so much for the overwhelming support for this story! I'm so glad it's generated interest! I'm so glad to have loyal readers! Thank you!**

**I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't know who, if anyone, owns the Greek myths, but it isn't me. **

Snape stared with detached objectivity at the body on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, blood still oozing from the gaping neck wound. Its already pale skin had turned an unnatural hue and one had to listen quite closely to hear the occasional faint wheeze.

Eros finally interrupted his thoughts. "Are you ready to return?"

"I wonder if it's worth the effort. There's a prodigious amount of blood on the floor and from the sound of it, my throat has been severely damaged. Surely breathing, let alone speaking, will be nearly impossible."

"You may sound raspy for a little while, but I see nothing to prevent you from making a full recovery," Eros replied.

Snape raised an eyebrow as he turned to face his companion. "This is your expert opinion?"

"You learn a few things along the way in my line of business."

"I suppose a working knowledge of anatomy is helpful in aiming those arrows for maximum effect."

Eros chuckled and shook his head. "That whole arrow thing is just a myth the Romans made up. I prefer subtler methods."

"Such as?"

"You'll see in due time."

"I can hardly wait," Severus muttered.

The two fell silent once more. "You'll need to act soon if you want to be found in a timely manner."

"I am not so sure I want to return." Snape grimaced at the sound of a particularly tortured wheeze.

"Even knowing that love is on your side? You have a chance at happiness if you choose to take it."

"Happiness is elusive for a man like me. Peace is all I've truly wanted. I thought death would finally bring me peace."

"You may find love to be a more rewarding path to peace," Eros smiled.

Snape shook his head. "Love has never earned me anything but pain."

"Then perhaps it's time to try a different kind of love. "

Snape snorted. "And sell my soul into bondage once more?"

"You were always free, Severus. You chose to hand over your freedom for a time to those who did not have your best interests at heart. Even so, you were free to escape their clutches at your discretion."

"At the price of my life."

"Did your loyalty spare you your life? From the look of things here, I'd say not," Eros reminded him. "I cannot tell you how to live your life once you return to your body, Severus, but I would strongly suggest avoiding people who see you as nothing but a means to an end."

"Like those toga-clad gamblers?"

"Even now you can choose not to participate in the wager. Live your life as a lonely hermit if you wish. It's your choice whether or not to accept Persephone's love, just as it is her choice whether or not to offer it."

"What if love eludes me again?"

"I suppose that is the biggest gamble of all, Severus. But the payoff is worth the risk."

Silence filled the shack once again. "Will you return?" Eros finally asked. "Time will not be on our side much longer."

"I suppose the die must be cast," Snape answered softly.

Bending down, he aligned himself with the corpus and closed his eyes as the light enveloped him once more. Satisfied that soul and body were reunited, Eros took a deep breath and began to modify his own form. Wings retracted and his toga unfurled into a Hogwarts uniform. With another burst of concentration, he shrunk himself a half metre and took on the skin and facial features of a youthful schoolboy. Transformation complete, he reached into a pocket for a pair of glasses, then darted into the night.

* * *

><p>"He's coming back, isn't he?"<p>

Hermione absently patted Ron's hand as she glanced at the empty vial on the floor. "He's doing the best he can, Ron," she whispered.

"I don't think we can make it without him." Ron's hand shifted to lace his fingers into hers.

Hermione leaned into his chest. "I know."

Ron folded her into his arms and took a shaky breath. "Hermione, I don't know what I would do without you. You…you are everything to me." Gentle kisses to the top of her head drifted lower as Hermione lifted her head to meet his lips.

"Hermione!"

Two startled pair of eyes turned to the door, which had burst open to expose a boy of no more than twelve. "What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded.

"I…I need to tell you something!"

"First and second years were supposed to have been sent home. Why are you still here?" Hermione insisted.

"I came back to help fight for Hogwarts."

Hermione released Ron and sighed. "Get in here before someone sees you."

"But I can't stay. I came to fetch you. Headmaster Snape is in the Shrieking Shack and he needs our help!"

Hermione choked. "Headmaster Snape was killed by the Dark Lord."

"But he's still alive! I saw it myself! He even coughed!"

"He coughed?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Hermione, it's too dangerous," Ron interrupted.

"Please come with me. We can save him if we hurry!"

"Wait, what were you doing in the Shrieking Shack?" Hermione asked.

"I heard about the passageway from the shack to the Whomping Willow. It seemed the best way to sneak back into the castle. But when I got there, I heard a moan and some coughing. That's when I found Headmaster Snape."

"You ran all the way here to get help for Headmaster Snape?" Ron asked.

"Yes!" the boy exclaimed.

"How do we know he's on our side? What if the Dark Lord has sent him to draw us out?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Why use Headmaster Snape for bait? I can't think of many people who would walk across the room to help him, let alone halfway to Hogsmeade." Hermione hissed in reply. "Besides how would the Dark Lord know that we saw Snape's memories?"

"You have a point."

"Look, I'm not strong enough to move him myself. He won't survive unless we get him to a Healer right away. Please help me."

"What made you think we'd help Snape?" Ron asked.

The boy looked to Hermione, his eyes pleading for help, "Because it's the right thing to do."

Hermione sighed, "Come on, Ron."

"You can't be serious, Hermione."

"We have to try. No one deserves to die like that. If he's right and Snape is still alive..."

Hermione looked at the boy, her eyes hardening with resolve. "You had better stay here. Keep your head down and don't let anyone see you. The best way for you to help Hogwarts is to stay alive."

"But Hermione…." Ron began.

"You can come with me or you can stay here, Ron, but I'm going to help the Headmaster."

With that, Hermione bolted out the door. Ron glared at the boy. "This had better not be a wild goose chase. I won't let Hermione die for that greasy git."

"Headmaster Snape is alive and I don't think he'll appreciate being called a greasy git."

Before Ron could respond, the boy vanished, a lone feather the only evidence that he had ever been there.

* * *

><p>Snape could see shadows of a figure through the mist. She was dancing in a field of lilies to a tune only she could hear, her hair a wild, unruly halo about her shoulders. He longed to call out to her, but he was reluctant to disturb the scene. He strained to discern her features but the mists thwarted his efforts.<p>

She pirouetted closer… if only he could see her face through that wild mass of brown curls.

Snape gasped. Brown! Her hair was brown!

"Headmaster Snape?"

The mists slowly enveloped her once again. The sense of loss he felt was profound.

"Headmaster Snape."

She was gone, replaced by another vision of unruly brown hair, this one distinctly more familiar.

"Granger," he rasped.

Leave it to Granger to interrupt his one brief moment of peace.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks so much for all the reviews, putting this on alert, favoriting, and of course, reading! I appreciate it all. Special thanks to my editor Heartmom88 and my Britpick Marianne Le Fey as well for all their help.**

**Also, a special Happy Birthday to our beloved snarky potions master!  
><strong>

**If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

"P-professor Snape?"

"It's been 'Headmaster Snape' for the past year," Snape rasped.

"I'm happy to see you're awake," Hermione smiled.

"You would be one of a very few…"

Hermione eased into the bedside chair and leaned forward earnestly. "I-I'm sorry about the way we treated you. We had no idea. If we'd known… oh Merlin, if we'd known your true affiliation we never would have treated you so poorly, especially towards the end."

Snape rolled his eyes. "That would have rather shattered the illusion I was trying to create, now wouldn't it?"

"I'll summon a Healer to let them know you're awake." There was much to say, but he obviously wasn't ready to hear it even if her words had been up to the task. She stood up from her chair and walked out into the hall to see whom she could flag down.

"Healer Jones!" she called.

"Yes?"

"Professor Snape is awake."

"Why do you insist upon calling me professor?"

Hermione did not answer, although he could sense that she wanted to say something. Instead of speaking, Hermione bit her tongue.

"I'll be right there." Jones finished making notations in another patient's chart, then strode into Snape's room.

Snape exhaled in annoyance. He usually avoided St. Mungo's at all costs, but it seemed he had no choice in the matter this time around.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," the Healer smiled.

Snape turned to meet his gaze. "Is it?" he whispered.

The Healer's brows shot up into his hairline. Snape quirked an eyebrow in response. "You can speak," the Healer remarked, more a question than a statement.

"Obviously." Snape answered. "But that's hardly new."

"We just thought it might take a bit longer, given the location of your wounds. I'm surprised you aren't in more pain."

"My neck aches a little," Snape admitted. "And I can't seem to speak above a whisper, but other than that I feel fine."

"I see," the Healer answered. "Well, let's run a few diagnostics and see just where we are. Miss Granger, would you mind stepping out into the hall?"

"Certainly."

The Healer pulled out a wand Snape recognized as his own. "Can you lift your wand arm?"

"I think so."

"I'm going to hold your wand over you like so. Try to lift your arm and grasp it."

Snape complied, retrieving the wand from the Healer on the second try. "Excellent," Healer Jones commented. "Now, try to cast a Lumos. Nothing else, just a Lumos."

"_Lumos"_ Snape whispered, eliciting a faint glow from the tip. Snape glared at the weakness of the light, but the Healer seemed pleased.

"Beautiful," Healer Jones muttered.

"I can barely see it," Snape complained.

"Considering the amount of magic depletion you underwent it's amazing that you can cast this spell at all."

"Magic depletion?"

The Healer took a deep breath. "How much do you remember about the Final Battle?"

Snape paused, then shook his head. "Not much. I remember seeing Nagini come out of her orb. The Dark Lord was saying something…."

Snape stopped, as though he was trying to discern what was real from what was just a dream. Finally, the Healer stated, "It's not a surprise that you remember so little. Patients often block out traumatic events, especially after waking up from a coma."

Coma? Snape wondered. How long had he been in a coma?

"Hermione Granger found you in the Shrieking Shack and brought you to St. Mungo's. That's where you are now."

"Why would Granger do such a thing?"

"According to her, Harry Potter claims you were a double agent who did invaluable work for the Order."

Snape glared at the Healer. "So now my life is an open book?"

Healer Jones smiled back in response. "You're lucky it is or you would have died. No one would have treated you if Miss Granger and Mr. Potter hadn't insisted."

"Get me Granger," Snape demanded, wincing a bit in pain.

"I think you need to rest."

"There will be plenty of time for that after I've seen Granger."

"Don't overexert yourself, Sir. You need some peace and quiet."

"I need privacy, but it appears that's been blown to hell."

Healer Jones sighed and stepped into the hall. "Miss Granger, Professor Snape would like a word with you."

"I'll be right there," her muffled voice replied.

Hermione stepped inside as the Healer scurried out.

"How many people know?"

"Know you're alive?"

"Know about my memories, Granger."

Hermione swallowed. "Harry and I had to tell the Healers at St. Mungo's or they would not have treated you. We also had to show your memories to the Ministry of Magic in order to clear your name."

Silence fell between them. "And?"

"That's it."

Snape relaxed. "At least you spared me the front page of the _Daily Prophet_."

"Professor, you should probably get some rest…"

"Why did you rescue me?" Snape cut in.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked.

"You knew that I deserved to die for the things I'd done as a Death Eater. You don't even like me, and for good reason. Why go back and rescue me?"

"Because I couldn't live with your blood on my hands," Hermione answered. "Harry told me about your memories. You deserved another chance at life, a chance to live as you pleased… a chance for some peace."

"Bloody Gryffindors always playing the hero."

"Professor Snape I'm sorry for all the times I doubted you… for the times I did not treat you as I should have. I hope perhaps now that the war is over you will let me make amends."

"I have no interest in apologies or restitution. I deserved everything I got."

"I'd still like to visit you if you'll allow it," Hermione replied.

"I can't imagine why," Snape answered. "But I know there's no stopping you once you've made up your mind. Just do me a favour, Granger."

"What's that, Sir?"

"Don't tell Potter or anyone else that I am awake. I'd like a few more hours of peace before all hell breaks loose."

"I think I can do that," Hermione replied with a grin.

Snape closed his eyes in apparent benediction. Hermione took a deep breath and turned to leave. "Granger!" Snape rasped.

Hermione spun around in alarm. "Yes?"

"Potter _did _win the war? The Dark Lord is dead?"

"Yes, we won," Hermione smiled.

Snape's eyes softened. "Then it was worth it." He leaned his head back onto the pillow and soon began to breathe more deeply. With a twitch of her lips, Hermione eased open the door and let herself out.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks so much for the reviews, reading, putting this on alert, and favoriting this story! I appreciate it all. Also thanks to Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Fey for all their help!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Hermione stuffed the test results in the front pocket of her jeans and took a shaky breath. Part of her wanted to shred the paper and forget about its contents, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. Maybe if she did a little research she could make sense of it… maybe even find a way to reverse it.

She stopped in front of Severus' room, briefly debating whether or not to go inside. Snape hadn't been terribly thrilled to see her when he woke up, but after three days of rest he might be in a better mood… Or not.

She took a deep breath before knocking on the door, kicking herself for forgetting that the man could barely talk. Perhaps she should ask a Mediwitch…

"Enter," a raspy baritone called from the other side.

Hermione smiled and opened the door. "Professor Snape?"

"Three days," Snape began with a touch of irony. "Three blissful Golden Trio-free days, now come to a sad and bitter end."

"Your voice sounds better." Hermione slipped into a chair and absently smoothed her hands over her jeans.

"It's been recovering quite nicely," Snape answered. "I suppose it helps that I haven't been required to use it much."

"That's great," Hermione replied. "I'm sure you'll be back deducting house points in no time."

"Indeed," Snape replied as he raised the head of the bed into a sitting position. "I believe that I owe you a debt of gratitude, Miss Granger."

"For?"

"The Healers tell me you were the one who found me and performed first aid. They said you did such good work that there was very little evidence that I'd ever had a snake bite. Surprisingly, there was no internal damage at all."

"That's great news," Hermione hedged. "You were in such bad shape I was afraid you might not stay with us. Does this mean you've forgiven me for saving you?"

"That was the coma talking. The Healers said I was a bit disagreeable when I first woke up."

Hermione suppressed a smirk. "No more than usual."

Snape gave her a small scowl.

"Still, I'm glad you are back with us," Hermione answered.

"I'm curious to learn just how you saved me, especially after you initially left me in the Shack."

Hermione felt the wind leave her lungs. "We thought you were dead. We knew the memories you gave Harry had to be important and all we could think of was getting to the pensieve. We should have stayed longer… checked for a pulse… tried to get help…"

"But then you came back?"

"Yes," Hermione cleared her throat. "I came back."

"Why?"

"A first or second year boy discovered you in the shack, heard you cough, and saw that you were still alive. He ran to find me."

"I see. So you found the antidote?"

"Um… I actually ran down to the potions lab and grabbed a Bezoar. It was the only thing I could think of."

"So you procured a Bezoar and then what?"

"I made it to the shack, performed every healing spell I could think of, and got you to St. Mungo's as soon as I could."

"How did you manage to get the Bezoar down my throat?"

"It wasn't easy." Hermione suddenly grew quite interested in her fingernails.

"I would think it nearly impossible, given the wound I had." Snape's eyes hardened. "How did you administer the antidote?"

"I told you," she answered as she nervously slouched back in her chair. "I just pushed the Bezoar down your throat as far as I could and then said a few spells."

"Granger," he replied in a low voice. "The Healers claim that when you brought me to them, I did not require any blood replenishing potion. My neck required just a few stitches—it had already begun to close. There was no internal damage to my organs—nearly impossible, given the nature of Nagini's venom."

"What do you want me to say?" Hermione coolly protested. "When I saw it was still possible to save you, I did everything I could think of to stabilise you. It happened so fast I couldn't begin to tell you what all I did. What else is there to discuss?"

"Did you use Dark magic or some type of spell that would bind us together?" Snape demanded.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I didn't do anything of the sort. I've told you everything I remember. Accept it or not, it's the truth!"

An uneasy silence settled upon them. Snape couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Hermione's story, but it was clear she was not going to be any more forthcoming. "I accept your explanation."

"Thank you," she exhaled.

Silence once again. "No one has tried to interrogate me yet," Snape finally began. "You didn't tell anyone I was awake, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Hermione replied. "I promised you I wouldn't. Harry did ask about you, though."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that I hadn't seen any change in you."

Snape smirked in amusement. "A clever deception. I appreciate your honouring my wishes."

She gave him a small smile. "You're welcome. The least I could do after all you'd been through."

"Again, it's appreciated."

"And again, you're welcome. Perhaps this will be the beginning of a good working relationship between us."

"Working relationship?"

Hermione nodded. "Headmistress McGonagall…"

"_Headmistress_ McGonagall?" Snape flared.

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth too late. She took a deep breath and explained, "The Board appointed McGonagall Headmistress after it became clear you would be _incapacitated_ for some time."

"That is an interesting development," Snape mused. "But short lived. I am not yet ready to resign from my post as Headmaster."

"Frankly, Sir, I'm surprised. I'd think you'd prefer to stay out of the limelight… find something a little less stressful..."

"The bulk of the stress from my term as Headmaster came from balancing my role for the Dark Lord with the safety of the students. But I have left some important tasks unfinished and I'd like to see them through."

"I'll leave that to you, McGonagall, and the board. I'm just the new Transfiguration research assistant."

"Research assistant?"

Hermione nodded. "After the war, Headmistress McGonagall offered Harry, Ron, and me a chance to either graduate or sit our seventh year to prepare for our N.E.W.T.s. When I mentioned studying for the N.E.W.T.s, the Headmistress said that if I was interested, I could also help her with her research for advanced credit, earning a few hours of university level experience without ever leaving Hogwarts."

"That is quite an opportunity," Snape replied. "You were wise to take her up on it."

"You approve?" Hermione asked.

"If she has to have a research assistant, it might as well be you rather than some dunderhead or worse, the unfortunate Mr. Longbottom."

Hermione smiled. "Neville got into a Herbology program at the Wizarding Institute of Joliet. He's excited to experience life in a different country, although he's not looking forward to winters near Lake Michigan."

"I'm sure he will survive the cold and snow," Snape replied. "And as long as he does not take a Potions Class, the city of Joliet should survive him, as well."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "Let's hope his reputation precedes him."

Snape stifled a partial smile in response.

* * *

><p>"Where is Hermione?" Ron began. "She should have been back from the Healer's by now."<p>

"You know how backed up those offices can get," Ginny replied as she slumped down on the couch beside Ron.

"I'm just worried about her. I know it was supposed to be a regular checkup, but I still can't help but worry that they found something."

Ginny put a hand on Ron's back. "Hermione is fine."

Ron took a shaky breath. "I can't lose her, Ginny. Losing Fred was hard enough. I don't know what I'd do without her."

Ginny embraced Ron. "I know Ron, I know."

Both of them perked up when they heard the click of the front door. "Ron?"

"Hermione!" Ron he leapt up, causing Ginny to fall back onto the couch. "How was the appointment?"

"I'm healthy," Hermione replied.

"Thank Merlin," Ron answered as he embraced her.

Ginny thought she saw a flicker of… regret? pain?... in Hermione's eyes, but the moment passed too soon for her to be certain. "Did you see Harry?" Ginny asked as she straightened in her seat.

"No," Hermione replied. "I was late because I was visiting Snape. I tried to see Harry before my appointment, but he was in a meeting."

Ron smirked. "I'd imagine the conversation with Snape was quite lively, given his current state."

"It was, actually," Hermione answered as she quietly tucked the offensive paper further into her jeans pocket.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thanks so much for all the reviews, putting this on alert, favoriting, and of course, reading! It is all very much appreciated! Thanks also to Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Fey for their help editing and Britpicking! Also, happy MLK Day to the Americans!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Snape set the magazine down with a scowl. It was a dismal day, indeed, when he was so desperate for reading material that he was reduced to perusing articles on home decorating, of all things. His office would retain its green and silver colour scheme, thank you very much, and the only artwork he would entertain would be the portraits of previous Headmasters. Even those had to be turned to face the wall from time to time in order to allow Snape some peace and quiet. They could get quite chatty at the least opportune moments.

His thoughts were interrupted by a resolute **click clack** of heels down the hall. Snape sat up, recognizing the sound as peculiar to a certain acquaintance from Hogwarts. Judging from the rhythm and pace of the stride, she was not happy. Snape frowned as the door opened.

"Minerva."

Headmistress McGonagall stepped inside, her eyes widening as she absorbed the reality before her. "So you are awake."

"Granger told you, then," Snape responded in a matter of fact tone as McGonagall closed the door behind her.

"No," she answered sternly, her eyes hard and unfriendly. "Hermione asked me last night what would happen to my position as Headmaster if you awoke. Initially I thought she was speaking hypothetically, but it was such an odd question that I thought I had better come see for myself."

"As you can see I am in fact awake."

"You speak quite well for someone who only a month ago was bitten on the neck by a snake and left for dead," Minerva asserted as she stepped forward for a closer look.

"The Healers have provided me excellent care, as apparently did Granger."

"Yes, she told me that she returned to tend to you in the Shack. At least that's the excuse she gave for visiting you." McGonagall replied.

"She was here when I regained consciousness earlier this week. I requested, however, that she not share that information with anyone just yet. Until now, she had done an excellent job of keeping mum. Quite surprising for a Gryffindor," Snape mused.

"Hermione is the soul of discretion," Minerva answered, her frown deepening. "I would not have chosen her to be my assistant if she was anything less."

"Indeed."

"She also has a very open heart. Apparently it can accommodate even you."

"She rescued me out of a misplaced sense of guilt. I don't pretend that it is anything more."

"Yes, well it must have taken quite a bit of _misplaced_ guilt for her to rescue Dumbledore's killer."

Snape's heart skipped a beat at her words. Minerva's eyes were aflame with hostility. For the first time, he wished that Harry had shown someone else those memories.

"How does it feel to be alive," Minerva hissed, "when Dumbledore is rotting in his grave?"

Snape answered in a low voice. "Dumbledore would be dead right now with or without my help."

"You don't think he could've survived Voldemort? You don't think we all would have been better off under Dumbledore's leadership?"

"Minerva, I am not going to discuss this with you while you are in this state."

"State? You killed the Headmaster and assumed his position. You favoured your precious Slytherins over every other house…"

"And you didn't?" Snape cut in, his voice tense with rage. "Tell me, how many points did you deduct from your Gryffindors when Sirius hung me from that tree? How many detentions did Black serve after he nearly fed me to his werewolf friend?" Minerva's lips tightened to a thin line. "Exactly. You were just as guilty of house favouritism as I."

"I did not kill a headmaster."

"You tried."

Headmistress McGonagall startled at that statement, but quickly recovered. "I was defending the school."

"You played your part. I will give you that."

"What are you talking about?" she hissed. "You were serving Voldemort!"

"Harry could not have won the war without me."

"So you had a last-minute change of heart. That means nothing to me."

"And here I thought Gryffindors believed in second chances."

"Dumbledore gave you a second chance and he died for it."

Snape exhaled. "Give it a rest, Minerva. We need to discuss the issue of my Headmastership."

"Your Headmastership? There is nothing to discuss. I have been Headmistress for over a month and I do not intend to return Hogwarts to your hands." Minerva stated heatedly.

"You know the bylaws as well as I. A Headmaster may only lose his position if he resigns or is permanently incapacitated. I did not resign, and as you can plainly see, I am most certainly not incapacitated."

"I can fix that."

Snape ignored the jibe. "I am to be released next week, Minerva, and I intend to return to Hogwarts to finish what I started, with or without your blessing."

"You've been in a coma for a month, Severus. You shouldn't be able to talk, much less walk. How do you explain this?"

"I have not suffered the usual muscular atrophy that comes with a coma. It is quite remarkable," Snape admitted. "I cannot explain it."

"Assuming that your health complies, how do you propose to regain the trust of our students and parents? Do you expect them to simply accept you as Headmaster of Hogwarts knowing all that happened there last year? Ministry pardon be damned, they will not easily forget what you did as a pawn of the Dark Lord. Neither will I."

"I will give a full account of my actions in due time, but you should know that I was always on the side of the Order."

"That's not what the students tortured by the Carrows will believe," Minerva huffed.

Snape's eyes flashed in regret. "I saved as many as I could."

"You didn't save enough," Headmistress McGonagall argued. "Do the school a favour and do not pursue this. Go and start an apothecary in another country if you must, but do not return to Hogwarts. You are no longer welcome."

"We shall see about that. My claim to the Headmaster position is airtight. The rest will fall into place in due time."

"Good luck explaining that to the Board."

With that, Headmistress McGonagall marched out of the room with her head held high. Snape stared at the spot where she had stood, contemplating his next move.

"Professor Snape?" A Mediwitch peeked her head in the door.

"Yes?" Snape snapped out of his reverie.

"I saw that your door was open. Do you need anything?"

"Yes," Snape replied, his jaw set in determination. "Please get me a quill and some parchment."

"Yes, Sir."

Snape relaxed as the Mediwitch rushed out the door. He then leaned back, carefully formulating a plan.

* * *

><p>"Come on Cannons! Grab that snitch and show those Falcons who's boss!" Ron yelled as the players darted across the field on their broomsticks.<p>

"Grab that snitch already, Gudgeon!" Ginny yelled.

Hermione sighed as she glanced at the scoreboard. It was already 110-20, and the Falcons were poised to score again, not that Ginny and Ron noticed.

"What?" Ginny yelled as the Quaffle once again sailed through the hoop, courtesy of a Falcon player. "How could you let that get past you?"

_Because he isn't a very good keeper_, Hermione thought as the keeper struggled to retrieve the Quaffle. _Even I could play better_.

"Look! Gavin's about ready to grab the Snitch!" Ron yelled in excitement.

"Oh Merlin! They may win!" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione watched with disinterest as it bounced off Gavin's nose and flew right in front of him, just out of reach. Hermione suspected that the snitch was taunting Gavin, but she didn't dare share her theory with anyone.

"Aw, it got away again," Ginny sighed.

Hermione watched the chaos on the field with barely disguised boredom. Once again the Falcons scored, eliciting more cries of frustration from Ginny and Ron.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, trying her best to enjoy the game. As much as she tried, she still found Quidditch as pointless and mind-numbing as when she first watched it. Merlin, how could people find this exciting?

"Ginny!" Someone from behind them yelled.

"Harry!" she exclaimed as she leapt from her seat. "It's about time you got here!"

Ginny embraced Harry as Ron turned back and smiled. "Hello, Mate!"

"Sorry I'm late. It was pure chaos today," Harry answered as he took his seat between Ginny and Hermione. He turned to Hermione and murmured, "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Ron talked me into coming," she answered, her lack of enthusiasm evident. "He promised to take me to an exhibit on Hogwart's history later on this week if I came."

"I said that I'd consider it," Ron inserted before shouting, "Get the bloody snitch, Gavin!"

"Ron said you had a Healer's appointment yesterday. How did it go?" Harry asked.

"It went all right. I'm healthy at least."

"Good," Harry answered as the crowd booed in unison. Harry turned to the field and yelled, "What do you mean they let the Falcons score again?"

"This hasn't exactly been a great game for the Cannons," Hermione deadpanned.

"They're coming back this season!" Ron shouted. "They came within fifty points of defeating the Wanderers!"

_The Wanderers had just hired a new seeker who was fresh out of the minors_, Hermione thought. _No surprise that the Cannons stood a chance against them_.

Once again, the keeper fumbled with the Quaffle before throwing it back out, right into the hands of a Falcon.

"That was just pathetic!" Ginny shouted before scooting practically into Harry's lap.

"I know!" Harry answered. "This hasn't been their best game!"

Ron put his arm around Hermione and began, "I'm glad you're here, 'Mione. I know Quidditch isn't your favourite sport, but I appreciate you coming. Are you having at least a little fun?"

"Sure," Hermione answered. "I'm with you. Of course I'm having fun."

"I love you, 'Mione."

Ron pressed his lips against her forehead when the crowd erupted in cheers. The Cannons had finally managed to get a Quaffle into the hoop.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, putting this on alert, and favoriting! Thanks also to Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Fey for all their help!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Crookshanks rolled onto his back in a luxurious stretch before righting himself to sprawl bonelessly across the bed. In the distance he could hear the soft hoot of an owl, presumably in for the night from the hunt. He yawned widely before closing his eyes once more, basking in the spotlight provided by an accommodating sliver of moon beam.

Moments later the door burst open, startling him into fully clawed attention.

"Crookshanks!"

Ears flat, the feline growled his displeasure, then reluctantly retracted his claws. Pulling himself fully upright to take a few nonchalant licks at already well-groomed fur, he awaited his mistress' explanation. Hermione stepped inside the room and let out a deep breath. "Sorry, Crooks. Did I wake you?"

Feeble apology that it was, the half-Kneazle decided to let bygone be bygones and presented his ears for a scratch. Hermione absently obliged as she sank onto the bed and cast the spells necessary to light the room. "The Quidditch match was as fun as ever," she sighed, passion noticeably lacking from her voice.

Crookshanks purred as he slithered against Hermione's side and was rewarded with a thorough massage. Hermione sighed. "At least Ron was happy… until the Cannons lost."

_Did they ever win?_ Crookshanks thought as he nuzzled his head against her stomach. _Even I could play Quidditch better than they do_.

Hermione scratched his back, smiling at the feline's obvious pleasure. "Harry finally came, although he was late as usual." She exhaled. "I didn't know he'd be so busy after the war."

Crookshanks looked up at Hermione. The usual gleam in her eyes was missing; her brow was furrowed in contemplation. "Why don't things feel the same anymore?" she wondered aloud. "We're together, even doing some of the same things we did in school, but it doesn't feel like we're the Golden Trio any more. What's happened to us?"

_I'm surprised anything was there in the first place, at least between you and Ron_, Crookshanks thought as he nuzzled her left hand. _All you did was fight_.

"Maybe I just need to try harder. Maybe if I read about the history of Quidditch, learned more about the various teams…"

Before Hermione could finish her train of thought, there came a loud thump at the window. Crookshanks growled as he jumped to the floor to face the intruder. Hermione stretched her arms and yawned as she slid off the bed. Who would send her an owl at this late hour?

She opened the window to admit the bedraggled bird. It froze, then shuddered when it spied Crookshanks' tail twitching threateningly at him. Hermione untied the message, then removed the letter, staring at the seal. This was unexpected.

Severus Snape.

Crookshanks predatorily eyed the bird as he wiggled into a crouch. Hermione sat on the bed once more, tapping Crookshanks on the back to break his concentration. She'd need that owl alive to deliver her response. With care, she undid the seal and opened the letter.

_Miss Granger,_

_ I fear that my conversation with Minerva did not go as well as I'd hoped. I am appreciative of your protecting my privacy, but Minerva is still under the impression that I killed Dumbledore out of spite. I fear that I am left little choice but to allow her to see the memories I gave Harry. Please tell Potter that I am awake and that I would like to speak with him, preferably sooner rather than later. _

_ -Headmaster Snape_

Crookshanks crouched back into his predatory stance. The owl sidled up into the window, poised to glide away into the night if necessary. Hermione was oblivious to their antics, all attention focused on her own dilemma. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to help Snape start a new chapter of his life, one of his own choosing. On the other hand, Headmistress McGonagall could possibly see her assistance of Snape as an act of mutiny. But Headmistress McGonagall did not understand the circumstances surrounding Dumbledore's murder, nor did she understand Snape's true allegiance during the war. If she saw those memories, she might be less hostile to the idea of Snape resuming his post as Headmaster.

Hermione scooped Crookshanks into her arms just as he prepared to pounce. "Come on Crookshanks. We need to write a letter to Harry."

The owl hooted derisively as it followed Hermione and the half-cat out of the room. If there was any justice in the world, he'd earn _two_ treats for working in hostile territory.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Severus Snape?" a Mediwitch asked as she poked her head into his hospital room.<p>

"Yes?" Snape asked, just barely able to make out her features in the light of her wand.

"There's a package here for you."

The Mediwitch entered the room, pulled out a tiny box, and enlarged it until it was the size of a book. "I was wondering when it would arrive," Snape began.

"May I ask what it is?" the Mediwitch gazed at the package suspiciously.

"It's a Muggle book. If I have to read one more article on decorating tips, I fear I'll lose my lunch."

"Why a Muggle book?" she asked as she unwrapped the package for him.

Snape sat up a little straighter. "I remembered it from my childhood."

She glanced at it and shrugged. "Muggle Greek mythology is an odd course of study for a young wizard."

"The stories are entertaining enough," Snape demurred. "May I have the book?"

"Certainly," the Mediwitch answered, handing it over to him.

Snape reached under his pillow to pull out his wand. "I would not advise leaving your wand there," the Mediwitch warned. "Your bedside table would be a far safer place to keep it."

Snape shot her a glare. "No."

Snape then whispered a spell and was rewarded with a blue glow. Although it was not as bright as he remembered, it was much brighter than the Lumos he had cast upon waking from the coma. "Be sure to put out your wand before you fall asleep," the Mediwitch advised.

"I will."

Snape opened the book, signalling an end to the conversation. The Mediwitch strolled out of the room, leaving Snape alone to flip through the pages. He lingered on an illustration of a man in an emerald chariot drawn by four black horses that appeared to be descending into a deep chasm. Beardless and muscular, his face was an expressionless mask. He held the reins to the chariot in one hand while the other arm clutched to his chest a panic-stricken woman. Her eyes were wild, her mouth open as if in mid-scream, and her hands were outstretched, as if attempting to cling to the earth above. Snape's eyes scanned the title:

Hades and Persephone.

* * *

><p>His embrace was firm, but not possessive. Hermione was his, but she knew she would be allowed to leave if she so desired. As she wrapped her arms around him, she could feel the ripple of taut muscles beneath the grooves of his scars. The scars caused her to shiver, but in admiration, not fear. Where they came from, she did not know, but she sensed they were badges of honour, not disgrace.<p>

She leaned her head against his chest: solid, safe, protective.

Slowly, she tilted her head to invite him to a kiss, but she only saw darkness. As she adjusted her angle to get a better look at him, she felt the loss of his touch. She opened her mouth to call for him, but felt foolish when she realized she did not even know his name. Suddenly, she felt something wet and rough against her hand.

Hermione startled awake. She turned her head to the left, where Crookshanks was giving her fingers a bath. "Thanks, Crooks," Hermione muttered with irritation.

Stretching, Hermione sat up in bed and gazed out the window. The brightly lit moon was surrounded by brilliant stars. She exhaled as she stepped out of bed and stared into the night.

Since the age of fourteen, she had had the same dream of holding this dark man. Occasionally she would chance a peek at his face, but never with success. Sometimes she wondered if he even had a face, but his body felt so familiar, so secure. As ridiculous as the notion sounded, she _knew_ this man in her dreams. No, she had never been held that way in her waking hours nor did anyone in her acquaintance match his familiar contours, but part of her still believed that he was real… and waiting for her.

A lone bat fluttered across the night sky. Perhaps it was silly to cling to her dream man. She loved Ron, not some illusion that only came to her at night.

But that did not keep Hermione from wishing the man in her dreams was real.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks so much for all of your support! I really appreciate that so many people are reading this story, leaving reviews, putting it on alert, and favoriting it! Thanks again! Thanks also to Marianne Le Fey for Britpicking and Heartmom88 for editing.**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

"Thank you ever so much for your help, Harry." Luna collected her papers into a purple binder sprinkled with stars twinkling in random orbit.

"Don't mention it," Harry replied with a smile. "We shouldn't have any difficulty proving that your father acted out of concern for your safety, not out of some intent to betray the Order."

"Having you as a witness will really help," Luna replied. "Thank you again."

Harry shook his head. "We need to focus on prosecuting and punishing actual Death Eaters, not fathers frightened for their children."

"I just hope the Ministry sees it the way you do."

"Me too," Harry exhaled.

"Harry," a woman's voice followed a quick rap on the door.

"Yes?" Harry answered. "Come in."

Hermione barrelled into the office. "I need to talk to you about…" Her voice drifted off when she realised with dismay that they were not alone. "I'm sorry for interrupting."

"We've just finished," Luna trilled lightly. "Goodbye Harry… Hermione."

Luna floated out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

"How is Xenophilius' defence coming along?"

"I think he has a pretty good chance of being released after the first hearing, but I can't say for sure. I'm mostly going over my testimony with Luna and explaining to her just how the process works."

"Has she consulted with a solicitor?" Hermione asked as she settled into an upholstered chair.

"She has met with a few, but they intimidate her. Can't say I blame her. Most of them probably think her father is a traitor. They've been encouraging her to have Xenophilius plead guilty in hopes of a lighter sentence. She may still be able to find at least one who is sympathetic..."

"I just hope they aren't sympathetic for too high a price."

"I'll help her when it comes time for that."

"How?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised.

Harry gave her a look intended to terminate the discussion. "However I can."

"Fine," Hermione answered, unwilling to press the issue.

"So what brings you here?" Harry asked before his eyes widened in horror. "Please don't tell me I've forgotten a lunch date."

"No," Hermione chuckled. "Nothing like that. It's actually a bit more complicated."

"Oh?"

"Severus Snape woke up."

Harry felt the wind leave his lungs. "When?"

"A few days ago."

"H-how did you find out?"

"I was with him when he woke up, but he asked me to keep the news of his recovery to myself."

"Of course Snape would want his condition kept secret. He isn't exactly known for seeking attention. Probably wants to leave Britain, anyway."

"He wants to stay, actually."

"Really. What does he plan to do?"

"He wants to resume his duties as Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Harry leaned back against his chair with a low whistle. "Has anyone told McGonagall?"

"Apparently he did yesterday. Things didn't go as smoothly as he had hoped."

"I'm not surprised," Harry mused. "She doesn't know the whole story… McGonagall has been a good headmistress so far. It won't be easy for her to give it up."

"But she technically has no claim to the position. Professor Snape was the Headmaster before he was bitten and now he is no longer incapacitated. By law he is the rightful Headmaster."

"Did he ever tell you why he wanted to continue as Headmaster?"

"No," Hermione replied. "He just said that he had left some things unfinished."

"You don't think he's just in it for the power, do you?"

"He couldn't be any worse than Dumbledore in that regard."

"True," Harry huffed with chagrin.

"He wants to speak with you before the memories are shown to Headmistress McGonagall. Even if she isn't swayed by what she sees, she'll at least learn the real story behind Dumbledore's death and Snape's actions that final year," Hermione finished.

"At the very least, she might help him make a case for his old position as Potions Professor and head of Slytherin."

"That's what I was thinking," Hermione added.

Harry looked down at his watch and calculated. "I have a two hour lunch break. That should give me more than enough time to pay Professor Snape a visit and still grab a quick bite to eat."

"Maybe you should eat before talking to Professor Snape," Hermione suggested.

"No, if our meeting runs long, I can always grab a sandwich to bring back here. I don't want to be concerned about time while I'm with Professor Snape." Harry paused to rein in his emotions. "We have quite a bit to discuss. I assume he's up for it or you wouldn't have come to me with this."

"He was in a coma because his magic was nearly depleted. Otherwise he's healthier than anyone would have a right to expect. His voice is even nearly back to normal."

Harry's eyes flickered in surprise. "That's unexpected. Did St. Mungo's try some sort of new treatment?"

"Not that I know of," Hermione answered. "As far as I can tell, he received the standard care."

"You must have done a brilliant job of stabilising him before you took him there."

"I suppose I did," Hermione slouched uncomfortably back into her chair, then brightened. "If you want to see the letter he wrote..."

"Certainly," Harry answered.

Hermione reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the letter. Harry smiled when he saw the seal. "Some things never change."

Opening the seal, Harry carefully read the letter. "How many times have you seen him since he came to?"

"I saw him the day he woke up and then two days ago."

Harry folded the letter and handed it back to Hermione. "At least he hasn't been completely alone."

"My company is a mixed blessing, at best," Hermione smiled wryly.

"I bet he appreciates it more than he lets on. The man had to be incredibly lonely for a good portion of his life."

"Maybe." Hermione tried to envision Snape being social… laughing… extending affection… It wasn't easy.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Harry!"

"Hi, Ginny. Come on in," Harry called.

Ginny burst through the door. "Guess what I just heard?"

"What?"

"Fleur and Bill may be having a baby soon!"

Hermione fixed her gaze to a spot on the floor, feeling as if she'd walked in on a very personal moment.

"I overheard Bill and Dad discussing it in Dad's office. Fleur's finally agreed to try."

"Wonderful!" Harry stood and embraced his girlfriend. When Ginny glanced up over his shoulder, she noticed Hermione frowning at the floor. "Hermione. I didn't know you were here."

"We were just discussing Professor Snape," Hermione answered, trying hard to compose herself.

"Is he awake?" Ginny asked.

"He is," Harry answered.

"Great news! I actually came here to see if you wanted to have lunch with me. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I got so excited when I heard Bill's news…" Ginny turned to Hermione. "You can join us if you'd like."

Hermione took a shaky breath. "I'm actually heading off to work soon. Headmistress McGonagall wants to start promptly at one today."

"I actually have a working lunch today, as well," Harry answered.

"But Dad you said you had a two hour break."

"I did, but something came up. I'm sorry."

"I understand," Ginny replied weakly as Hermione and Harry both stood.

"Maybe we can try for Friday," Harry offered.

"Sure. That sounds great." Ginny forced herself to smile.

Harry gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm late for that appointment. See you tonight?"

"Tonight, then." Ginny answered.

Hermione watched Ginny's face fall as Harry left. "Are you going to be all right?" Hermione asked.

"I'm fine. I'll just have lunch with Dad. Are you sure you won't join us?"

"No thank you, I really must be going. Goodbye, Ginny." Hermione wrapped her friend in a quick hug.

"Goodbye, Hermione," Ginny whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thanks so much for reading, putting this on alert, favoriting, and of course, reviewing! You all make my day!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Snape turned the page, his eyes darting to the opening sentence of the next chapter. He did not hear the knock on his door, nor his name softly called. He didn't even look up when the door cracked open. "Professor Snape?"

Peeved at the interruption, Snape's glare softened when he saw who his visitor was. "Hello, Potter."

Harry watched in fascination as Snape slammed the book shut. "What are you reading?" he asked.

"Just a book," Snape hedged as Harry closed the door and approached the bed.

"Greek mythology?" A glance at the cover was all Harry needed.

Snape slid the book face-down onto the bedside table. "It's a fascinating study of early Muggle history. But I doubt you've come here to discuss literature."

"No, I haven't," Harry admitted as he settled into the chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Well enough to be a little restless about getting out of here," Snape replied.

Harry quirked a small smile. "It's good to see you alive and nearly well."

"I'm trying to make the best of it."

"Do you have any immediate plans?" Harry asked.

Snape's expression sobered as he straightened in the bed. "I assume Miss Granger showed you the letter I sent her."

"She did," Harry answered.

Snape studied his expression, but Harry did not betray any particular emotion other than curiosity. "So you know about my desire to reclaim my position as Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"I do, but I honestly don't understand why you would seek that headache again," Harry answered. "Creating potions and magical research seem more your style than playing politics and running a bureaucracy."

"I can still conduct research as Headmaster. One could even argue that freedom from correcting papers and supervising detentions gives me more discretionary time."

"But certainly you'd have even more freedom away from Hogwarts?"

"Yes, but job opportunities are rather limited for former double agents. And I refuse to serve another master."

"So you want to become Headmaster so you won't have to follow someone else's orders?"

"That is not the primary reason."

"What is the primary reason, then?" Harry asked.

Snape paused to gather the right words. He finally looked Harry directly in the eye and answered, "The Slytherins need someone on their side."

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, shocked.

"We both know the role that Slytherin house played in the Second War. What many do not understand, however, is that not every Slytherin was complicit in the Dark Lord's activities. Many were too young to participate; others were silent objectors. Still others moved abroad with their families for a time to avoid the hostilities altogether. The fact remains that many future Slytherins will enter Hogwarts next year with little to no knowledge of what has just transpired. What is to become of those students if McGonagall is in charge?"

"I am sure she will try to treat them just like the rest of the students," Harry replied with an unsteady voice.

"Do you honestly believe they will receive a fair hearing in her office if one is forced to fight in self-defence? Will McGonagall listen to their side of the story if they are taunted by a Gryffindor over their house's involvement in the war? Or will McGonagall instantly assume that the Slytherin is guilty or simply ignore their complaint altogether?"

Harry bowed his head. "Do not fool yourself, Potter. You saw my memories and you know this prejudice exists. It will be worse now that so many Slytherins are being prosecuted and sent to Azkaban. I will admit to being biased towards the Slytherins during my teaching career. It was an unjust compensation for wrongs I had seen my house suffer through the years. When I resume my post as Headmaster, however, every student will have a fair hearing. We can no longer afford to favour any one house above the others."

"You're right," Harry whispered.

Snape examined the boy for signs of disapproval, but found none there. He continued softly, "I want to bring justice back to Hogwarts, Harry. The students deserve that much."

"I believe you," Harry replied, lifting his head to meet Snape's gaze. "Even so, Headmistress McGonagall will be reluctant to give up her position."

"That's why she needs to see the memories."

"What if she and the Board refuse you?" Harry asked. "Would you consider a return to teaching?"

Snape cringed. "I think my efforts would be best served elsewhere, but if that is the only option open to me, I think I could still achieve some of my goals as a professor… as long as I continue on as Head of Slytherin."

"I think that would be a reasonable alternative." Harry fidgeted in his chair. "Do you want me to show McGonagall the memories?"

Snape's eyes became distant in thought. "If I am going to rejoin public life at Hogwarts or anywhere else, people will need to know what really happened. The idea of having my life on display for all to see sickens me…"

"But you may not have a choice," Harry concluded.

"Exactly," Snape replied.

"I could write an article for the _Daily Prophet…_."

"That tabloid?" Snape protested, his frown deepening.

"Sadly, it's the most widely read paper in Wizarding Britain. Besides, if I write it there's less chance your story will be tampered with."

"Less chance?"

"I can't guarantee anything, but if I write the article, they might publish it without 'revision.' I really think this is the best way to get your story out to the public. Most people know you were exonerated, but it wasn't ever explained why."

"… an oversight for which I am grateful," Snape interrupted.

"But there's a higher level of accountability for the Headmaster of Hogwarts. You aren't just some private citizen anymore," Harry explained.

"I suppose sacrifices must be made," Snape conceded. "At least let me read the article before it's published."

"I will," Harry promised. "I'll try to have it finished by tomorrow. Is it all right if Hermione helps me?"

"I would prefer that she did. Your sense of sentence structure is atrocious," Snape answered.

Harry's grinned. "I suppose that's true."

Silence fell between the two. Just as Harry moved to leave Snape asked, "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss with me, Potter?"

Harry thought for a minute, then bowed his head. "I'd just like to apologise for the way I treated you as a student. I am truly sorry, Professor Snape."

"We each played our part in the war, Potter, and staying true to our roles helped us win. No apology is necessary."

Harry's eyes rose to meet Snape's. "I am truly happy you made it out of the war alive."

"And you, as well, Potter," Snape answered.

Harry nodded, then stood up. Taking one last look at Snape, he exited the room. Snape listened as Potter's footsteps faded down the hall, then reached once more for his book to resume his reading. After a while he sighed.

_I'm not getting anywhere._ _I wonder if_ _a Wizarding book on Greek mythology would help_…

* * *

><p>"Hermione!"<p>

"Yes, Headmistress McGonagall?" Hermione straightened in her chair and placed her hands on the wooden table.

The older woman leaned down to meet her eyes. "You were daydreaming again."

"I'm sorry," Hermione blanched. "I really am trying to focus."

Minerva sighed as she sat in the seat across from her. "It's not all your fault. I have been going off on tangents. I suppose neither of us is particularly focused today."

"What's bothering you?" Hermione asked as she closed her book.

"Severus Snape. He doesn't seem to know when to make a graceful exit."

"So he told you about his plan to resume his duties as Headmaster."

"He did," the Headmistress answered. "But I can't see anyone outside the House of Slytherin approving of it."

As if on cue, Harry burst into the room. "Hello, Hermione… Headmistress McGonagall."

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Headmistress McGonagall asked.

"I came to see you and Hermione, actually."

"About?"

"Headmaster Snape."

McGonagall's eyes darkened. "Why would you refer to that man as 'Headmaster'?"

"Because it's his rightful title."

McGonagall huffed, "Peeves would make a better Headmaster than Snape. At least Peeves hasn't killed anyone."

"With all due respect," Harry replied as he pulled out a vial containing a wispy, silvery substance, "I think you need to see something before solidifying your opinion."

"What is that?"

"Headmaster Snape's memories."

"Why would I want to watch Dumbledore die again?"

"Please, Headmistress, just go into your office and view the memories."

Minerva stood up from her chair. "There's a pensieve across the library. I will view them there."

Headmistress McGonagall took the vial from Harry and stalked past the book shelves. "So Professor Snape consented to showing her the memories?" Hermione asked.

"He did, and he also wanted me to do something else."

"What's that?"

"Whether or not Snape becomes Headmaster, he needs people to know the truth about his actions during the war and why he was exonerated. I think the best way to do that is through a newspaper article."

"I'd hate to see Rita Skeeter get her claws on his story."

"I've already volunteered to write it," Harry answered.

"Good," Hermione replied, relieved.

"…and I'd like you to help me edit it, if you can spare the time," Harry continued.

Hermione's eyes glimmered at the prospect of the challenge. "I would be honoured to help."

"Thanks. I'll start in on the article tonight and owl you a rough draft first thing tomorrow morning unless you're due early at work …"

"No," Hermione replied. "I won't be needed until two tomorrow afternoon. That gives me plenty of time to edit the article, and send it back for your final approval. Please do write carefully, though. I only have so much red ink."

Harry laughed. "I will do my best. Besides, Headmaster Snape wants to approve the final draft before we submit it for publication."

"I would, too, if I were he."

A slower, more subdued clacking of high heels ended the conversation. They both turned to see Headmistress McGonagall stepping towards them, her face white as the Grey Lady's. Her steps faltered under their gaze and her lower lip began to tremble. When she reached the table, she whispered.

"I'm a monster."


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Thanks so much for reading, putting this on alert, favoriting, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all of your support!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Snape closed the Greek mythology book and frowned. After hours of pouring over every detail, he felt no closer to understanding his place in the cosmos than when he'd first opened it. Something was missing...

Perhaps there was no greater plan. Perhaps it had all been some sort of coma-induced dream.

The click of the door interrupted his thoughts. He set the book down and turned his attention to the unexpected visitor. "Minerva."

"Is this a bad time?"

Snape carefully observed her. Gone was her previous antagonism, replaced by something he couldn't quite identify. She appeared worn, as if the past seventy-three years had finally caught up with her. "No, it's not a bad time."

Minerva pulled the door closed and hesitantly made her way to his bedside. "I owe you a great apology."

Snape took in a slow, cautious breath.

"I had no idea what Dumbledore had asked you to do. If I'd known…if I'd only known…."

"You would have gone along with his plan for the sake of the greater good," Snape quietly finished.

"No," Minerva choked. "I mean, I'd like to think that I wouldn't have. Merlin, Severus, if I'd known you were a double agent I never would have fired on you, at least not like that. I honestly tried to kill you… If I'd known Dumbledore had asked you to take his life, I might have done the deed, myself."

Snape grinned mirthlessly. "You wouldn't have been any more able to kill Dumbledore than Poppy or Peeves or even Mrs. Norris."

"Maybe not the Dumbledore I thought he was, but the man I saw manipulating you in your memories... I…I didn't even know that man."

"Didn't know, or didn't want to know?"

"Both, I suppose," Minerva sighed in resignation. "I wanted to believe he was a benevolent educator whose utmost concern was protecting the welfare of our students. I wanted to believe he was a selfless leader of the Order of the Phoenix, courageously fighting for the greater good… I suppose I know better now."

"You played your part," Snape answered. "We would have lost the war if you hadn't acted as you did."

"I almost killed you…"

"And if you hadn't it would have been much more difficult to convince the Dark Lord of my loyalty to him."

"You must have felt trapped in a living hell. I only made it worse."

"Minerva, it's over."

Snape extended a hand. Minerva's eyes filled as she gingerly cradled it in both of hers. "Am I forgiven?"

"Yes."

Minerva inadvertently squeaked as she fought to hold back her tears. "Thank you."

"We won, Minerva. It's over."

"Indeed," Minerva admitted as she released his hand and straightened in her seat. She took another shaky breath. "I suppose we should discuss the future of Hogwarts."

Snape braced himself for the words to come.

"Most parents will not approve of having an ex-Death Eater as their children's Headmaster."

"But you know there is more to the story..."

Minerva raised her hand to cut him short. "I know. That's why I fully support Harry and Hermione in writing an article for the _Daily Prophet _explaining your role in the war. The day the article is published is the day that I intend to resign from my post as Headmistress."`

Snape studied her expression for a good long time before responding, "Thank you."

"You have demonstrated time and again that you truly do place the welfare of the students above your own and you have consistently aided the Order of the Phoenix at great personal risk. I can think of no finer candidate for Headmaster and if you will still have me, it would be my deepest honour to serve under your leadership."

"I would appreciate it if you would continue on as Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Headmistress. You are a valuable member of the Hogwarts staff."

Minerva smiled. "It's settled, then. This will begin a new age of inter-house cooperation at Hogwarts."

"Agreed."

Minerva's expression sobered. "If you are to be released from the hospital and thrown into the role of Headmaster next week, we will need to discuss some current issues, beginning with the progress of the school's reconstruction."

"Where are we on that?" Snape asked.

Reaching into her pocket, Minerva pulled out some documents. After enlarging them, she set them in front of Snape. "The document on the left shows the initial damage done. It was quite extensive."

Snape nodded and Minerva continued. "The document on the right is the progress we have made so far. On the back is an estimate of the cost of repairs as well as future plans…."

Snape turned the document over, energised by the prospect of building something, rather than working to take it down.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand why you're defending Severus bloody Snape!" Ron argued as he glared at Hermione and Harry.<p>

"You saw the memories, Ron. Professor Snape was loyal to the Order the entire time," Hermione began as Harry continued writing.

"That doesn't change the fact that he's a nasty git!" Ron retorted.

"It was all part of an act. You know that," Hermione answered.

Harry shook his head as he reread his sentence. When Headmistress McGonagall left to go visit Snape, he and Hermione decided it might be easier to write the article together. Ron had shown up at the Hogwarts library an hour later to ask if they wanted to go out for a drink after work. The conversation had deteriorated from there.

"Not everything was an act. The man is biased, vindictive, and capable of some pretty dark things. He does not need to be running this school!"

"That's for Headmistress McGonagall and the Board to decide, not you!" Hermione retorted, her face reddening in anger.

"Look 'Mione, he was not a good teacher. He was even worse as Headmaster. I just can't see why you two would lift so much as a finger to see him torment a whole new generation of students!"

"Will you two please be quiet?" Harry shouted over the din. They stared at him in shock. "I can barely hear myself think."

"Harry, you thought he was a traitor not three months ago. Do you really think one article is going to change the opinion of thousands of people?"

"I need to at least try," Harry answered as he returned his attention to the task at hand. "I honestly don't know why you're getting so worked up about this, Ron. You aren't in school anymore."

"But Ginny is, and she had enough of Snape last year. The things the Carrows did to enforce discipline…"

"Do you really think Professor McGonagall would allow that to happen?" Hermione asked.

"She didn't stop Snape before."

"He was doing it to appease Voldemort. You know the circumstances surrounding that!"

Harry groaned and closed his eyes in frustration.

"He also cut off George's ear! Am I supposed to forget that?"

"It was an accident!" Hermione exclaimed.

"That doesn't undo the damage he's done!" Ron shouted. "I don't care what his reasons were, there are some things you just can't forgive!"

An electric silence crackled between the two… then Hermione's eyes suddenly softened in comprehension.

"Banishing Snape won't bring Fred back."

Tears filled Ron's eyes. "I don't want to look at another Death Eater ever again. I don't care how many were secretly double agents."

"Oh Ron," Hermione answered as she stood up and embraced him.

Ron sobbed into her shoulder. "I want things to go back to the way they were. I want Fred back and I want George to have his ear again."

"You know that can't happen," Hermione whispered.

"Maybe not, but it would make me feel better to know that the Death Eaters will never be in a position of power again."

"Give Professor Snape a chance. He may surprise you."

"He'll only surprise me if he has the good grace to leave and never return."

Hermione squeezed him tighter as Harry shook his head. Hermione seemed to have the situation under control, now. It did confuse Harry, though. How could people who were screaming at each other one minute embrace each other the next?

Hermione and Ron were an odd couple indeed.

* * *

><p>"You have made an incredible amount of progress in a very short time, Minerva."<p>

"Thank you," Minerva smiled. "The sooner we have Hogwarts up and running, the better."

"Just don't entertain any ideas about decorating my quarters in red and gold, lest I recommend we paint the Gryffindor tower black."

Minerva stifled a smirk. "I think we can agree on that. I suppose I should get back to work-there's still so much to do. Is there anything I can bring you from Hogwarts next time I visit?"

"I am in desperate need of reading material."

"Perhaps a potions journal?"

"I was toying with the idea of trying some ancient Muggle literature, actually. Does our library contain a copy of Homer's _Iliad _or his _Odyssey?" _

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "A little light reading?"

"There isn't much else to do with my time. The Healers insist that I rest," Snape answered.

"I'll have Madame Pince owl you a copy of each as soon as she's able. You should have them by tomorrow."

"Thank you."

Minerva started out the door, then paused to turn around. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for all you've done."

"It's a new day, Minerva."

With a hint of a smile in response, she strolled out of the room and flooed back to Hogwarts, feeling much lighter than when she'd first come.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all the support! Thanks also to Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Ley for all their help!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Hermione's eyes were bright with anticipation. She scrutinised every movement, no matter how minute, searching for signs of approval. Unsurprisingly, he gave little indication of his thoughts until he set the parchment down and pronounced it: "Adequate. Quite."

"Does that mean you approve?" Hermione asked.

"It accomplishes what we set out to do," Snape drawled.

"Headmaster," Harry interjected. "If it falls short in some way, please say so. We can fix it."

Snape fiddled with the parchment and scanned the contents once more. Hermione bit her lip as he lowered the manuscript. "You may publish this as is. It says exactly what it needs to say, and the sentence structure… exceeds expectations."

"We spent two hours on just that," Hermione beamed with pride.

Harry exhaled, rolling his eyes. "It was almost as bad as taking instruction from you, Headmaster."

Snape smirked. "Then there may yet be hope for Miss Granger's future in education."

Hermione chuckled as Snape handed the parchment back to Harry. "I didn't use quite as much red ink as you used to…."

"Give it time..."

"Please don't encourage her." Harry glanced down at his watch. "If I hurry now I can turn this in to the _Daily Prophet _in time for it to be published in tomorrow's morning edition."

Hermione turned to Snape. "Is that too soon?"

"The sooner we put this issue to rest, the better."

"It's settled, then," Harry replied as he stood up from his chair. He looked at Hermione. "Are you coming with me?"

"I'd like to speak with Headmaster Snape a little while longer, if he's up to it."

"You have fifteen minutes before visiting hours end," Snape replied.

"Very well," Harry answered. "I shall leave you to it. Goodbye, Headmaster… Hermione."

"See you tomorrow, Harry."

"Potter."

Harry strolled out the door, leaving the two alone. "Headmistress McGonagall asked me to give you these," Hermione began as she pulled two items out of her pocket. Slowly, she enlarged them until they reached their normal size.

"So Minerva remembered," Snape murmured, accepting the books from her hands.

As he thumbed through the pages, Hermione continued, "I honestly found it odd that you would request those particular books. I know there isn't much to read here but…."

"But what, Granger?" he asked. "Do you consider classical literature beyond my grasp?"

"No. I was just surprised you had a taste for it."

Snape looked up from the books and frowned. "Homer's work is different from most literature. Very few people write well enough to have their work remembered two hundred years after they are published, let alone over two thousand years later. For this transcendence alone, he warrants respect."

"I was not suggesting that he was unworthy of respect …"

"Perhaps you were surprised that I would read something written by a Muggle."

Her uncomfortable silence confirmed his suspicion. "I can see how you might think that of me," he continued. "For a time I did turn my back on the Muggle world. When it became clear, though, that the Wizarding World was no better, I decided to revisit some of the Muggle culture I'd abandoned. Literature, and by extension Homer, was part of that."

"I've only ever read the Odyssey," Hermione answered. "I was fascinated by the part where Odysseus descended into the underworld."

"An odd interest for one so young..."

"I know, but I think death must have been weighing on my mind at the time. I read it the summer after Cedric died… It… it just resonated with me."

Hermione bowed her head to blink back tears. Snape averted his eyes, adjusting the pillow behind him. After a long pause he answered, "It was all the gods."

"Come again?"

"The entire war was a ploy by the gods to create chaos. The warriors were simply pawns in a grand celestial chess match. In the end, it was all beyond their control."

"Do the gods remind you of Voldemort and Dumbledore?" Hermione asked.

Snape grimaced. "The gods were much kinder than either of them. Their warriors may have been pawns, but they were not sent into battle unaware of the dangers they faced."

Hermione considered the truth of those words.

Snape exhaled and set the books on the bedside table. "Did you really prolong your stay to discuss Homer with me?"

"No," Hermione grinned wryly as her thoughts returned to the present. "Although you are one of the few wizards capable of such a conversation."

"Plenty of wizards can discuss Homer. It's just that none of them happens to live at the Burrow," Snape replied.

Hermione blushed. "Ron isn't completely uncultured."

Snape observed her carefully before shaking his head. "I never understood what you saw in Weasley."

"I've known him since the beginning. He knows me better than almost anyone else."

"How can he _understand_ you, though, if he cannot comprehend half of what you say?"

Hermione's eyes flickered in anger. "He understands enough. Ron has been a loyal friend… He's the man I love."

"No need to get so defensive, Granger. I couldn't care less who you do or don't… 'love'. The relationship just intrigues me."

"Perhaps you are too easily intrigued," Hermione retorted. "But if you must know, Ron is trying to better himself. He and I are going to an exhibit on Hogwarts history tonight."

"Ah… so that's what the Mediwitches were talking about."

"Would you like me to see if I can take some pictures of it for you?"

"I don't need to see any pictures-I approved half the exhibits last year. But someone representing the school should be there to reassure those in attendance that Hogwarts also has a future, not just a past."

He had a point. "I'm sure Headmistress McGonagall will be there. She'll probably even put in a good word for you. She is resigning tomorrow, you know."

"So she told me."

"You _will_ retain her as the Transfiguration professor, won't you?"

"Professor McGonagall is an invaluable asset to the school. I have no intention of releasing her from her teaching duties. Besides, that would rather place a damper on your research project now, wouldn't it?"

"That it would, although that isn't why I asked. Professor McGonagall has been a good mentor to me."

"If it gives you any comfort, she will also resume her duties as the Deputy Headmistress."

"Just like the good old days, eh?"

"Except I'll no longer be serving two masters… or even one."

Hermione flashed him a smile. "It's about time."


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Thanks so much for reading, putting this on alert, favoriting, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate it all!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize!**

"Rowena Ravenclaw's dress robes," Hermione whispered reverently.

"Nice," Ron murmured, glancing furtively down the hall at the broom display.

"Just imagine the events she must have attended… the dignitaries she must have met… She helped built the Hogwarts library from scratch. All those books… all that knowledge…."

"Those books are probably still in the library somewhere," Ron offered helpfully.

Hermione's face fell. "If they survived the fire."

"Didn't most of the books have protective spells on them?"

"Most of them did, but not the shelving. It's going to take years to sort through everything and assess the damage. Madame Pince had help clearing the library and she's made a good start on the reconstruction, but..."

Ron smiled. "I'm sure you'll be right in the thick of it until everything is set to rights."

"Head-I mean Professor McGonagall was putting together a task force to help with the project, but now that she's resigning it's unclear just how that will proceed."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Ron replied with a scowl.

"Can you see what's on display here?" a familiar voice superciliously drawled.

"No, I can't. Someone is _in the way_," a second, younger voice complained in a similar tone.

Ron and Hermione turned to find Lucius and Draco Malfoy standing directly behind them. "Ahh… It's the Weasel… and Granger," Draco cried out in mock surprise.

"I thought you were under house arrest!" Ron hissed.

"The judge lifted the order today, just in time for us to attend the opening. After all, it would be tragic for the former head of the Hogwarts Board not to attend such an historic event," Lucius purred

"You bribed him, didn't you?" Ron accused a little too loudly, drawing more than a few curious glances.

"I'm wounded that you would even consider such a thing," Lucius responded, brushing something invisible from his lapel. "Our decision to lay down our wands and walk away from the final battle was enough to convince the judge that we had not earned a place in Azkaban."

Ron snorted. "Lay down your wands, my eye! You got what you wanted, then deserted your allies."

"Ron, please calm down," Hermione whispered as a tense silence suddenly descended on the room. "People are staring."

"I can almost understand letting Snape go, but these monsters?" Ron hissed.

"Snape was exonerated?" Lucius' taunting smirk was replaced by genuine confusion.

"He was a double agent," Hermione replied. "He was working for Dumbledore the entire time."

"How convenient," Lucius responded, his eyes hardening. "At least he died with his good name intact."

"Have you been living in a hole? Snape's alive!" Ron snapped.

"News from the outside world doesn't tend to reach people under house arrest, Mr. Weasley. But thank you for your concern. We've been living quite comfortably, actually, despite our lack of news," Lucius replied bitingly.

"Severus Snape is alive?" Draco asked, dropping the haughty facade.

"No thanks to either of you," Hermione replied.

The muscles in Lucius's jaw tightened as his voice lowered. "Don't even pretend to think you know what happened there."

"Hermione saved Snape. The Healers say it's a medical miracle." Pride oozed from Ron's voice.

"You did this, Granger?" Draco struggled to process that information.

"I only did what any normal, compassionate person would have done… if they'd bothered."

"Where is he?" Draco asked with genuine concern.

"He's at St. Mungo's," Hermione replied.

"Ron? Hermione?" Ginny's arrival broke the tension. Murmurs once again filled the room as the crowd turned its attention to more interesting matters.

"Hi, Ginny!" Hermione smiled.

"Have you seen Harry? He was supposed to meet me here."

"No," Hermione replied before turning to Ron.

"Sorry, Sis," Ron answered. "I don't know any more than you do."

"I saw Potter with Lovegood earlier," Draco remarked nonchalantly, examining his fingernails.

"How much earlier?" Ginny whirled to face him.

"This afternoon in the courthouse."

Ginny sighed. "That doesn't help much. I knew he was supposed to take a meeting with her around noon. But now he's supposed to be here."

"Ginevra, has it ever occurred to you that Potter just may not be that interested in attending this event with you?" Draco asked.

Ginny shot Draco an expression that would have made a less confident man shrink. "I prefer to be called Ginny. And attending this event was Harry's idea."

"I'm so sorry." Harry rushed breathlessly into the room. "I'm so sorry I'm late. Work ran long tonight."

"No problem," Ginny replied with a triumphant smirk in Draco's direction. The smirk died on her lips when she spotted the blonde behind her boyfriend. "Luna?"

Harry deflected Ginny's wrath. "I'm sorry to spring this on you, Ginny, but we filed the paperwork for Xenophilius' release today. I thought Luna could use something to take her mind off of it. Would you mind terribly if she joined us?"

"I could hunt buzzardflies instead if you'd prefer. It's a lovely night to catch them and I'd hate to intrude," Luna trilled.

Draco leaned in close to whisper in Ginny's ear, "Getting a little crowded in here, don't you think?"

Ginny threw him an elbow, knocking Draco off-balance. Lucius steadied him with a shrewd, calculating look as Ginny summoned the grace to reply, "We'd love to have you, Luna."

"Come along, Draco," Lucius interjected with a bored tone. "I understand there's a collection of Quidditch brooms down the hall."

The Malfoys glided to the next exhibit as Harry shook his head. "I can't believe they spent so little time in house arrest."

"Money talks, Harry," Ron muttered.

"Actually, the judge said he was swayed by their change of heart and expressed hopes that they could still be productive citizens."

"I'm not holding my breath."

* * *

><p>"Minerva, surely yeh can see dat yeh've been good fer da school. Yeh can't quit now!"<p>

"It's for the best, Hagrid. You'll just have to trust me on this."

"But…but who's goin' to run Hogwarts?"

"You'll see tomorrow," Minerva reassured him. "There will be an article about it in the morning paper. It should be quite good. I've already had a chance to preview it."

"Who wrote it?"

Minerva smiled cryptically. "Read the paper."

Hagrid shook his head. "I jus' hope whoever he or she is can bring stability to the school. We've had three, now four, Headmasters in de las' two years. Speakin' o' which, how is Professor Snape?"

Minerva smiled. "Just read the paper, Hagrid. Ahh… Lucius and Draco Malfoy!"

Minerva strode off to greet the former board member. Hagrid's eyes grew wide as an idea occurred to him, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head. "Nah, it couldn' be..."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry for going off on the Malfoys like that."<p>

Hermione caressed his cheek and whispered, "It's all right, Ron. You lost your temper, but you recovered. Malfoys aside, I had a lovely evening."

"Good," Ron grinned.

The warm night breeze blew Hermione's cotton dress about her legs as she studied Ron's features. The moonlight was kind to him. He may not be the dark man in her dreams, but in the moonlight he was certainly a man, not a boy.

"Hermione, you look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you."

Ron leaned in to press his lips against hers. She returned the kiss ever so softly at first, then allowed it to intensify in response to Ron's urgency. Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming desire, a need to touch and to be touched.

"Granger!"

Hermione practically jumped out of her skin. "What on earth do you want, Draco?" she snapped breathlessly.

"Can't you see we're busy?" Ron growled.

"Pardon the interruption, " Draco smirked unrepentantly, "but I forgot to ask…"

"What?" Hermione snapped, beyond irritated.

"What room is Snape in at St. Mungo's?"

The mood was well and truly broken. "Room 494."

"Can he talk?"

"As well as ever, if you can get him to grant you an audience," Hermione ghosted a smile.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I suppose you can go back to practicing making those Weasley babies, now."

Hermione grimaced while Ron fumed. "That guy is such an arse."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Hermione sighed before turning to Ron. The moment had faded, but maybe it would return another night.

"So… what should we do now?" Ron asked suggestively.

"I really think I need to go home, Ron. I'm tired."

"I'll Apparate you to your door," Ron offered tightly, silently vowing to take his revenge on Malfoy, if it was the last thing he managed to do.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all the feedback! Thanks also to Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Fey who have helped me so much!**

**I don't own Harry Potter of the Iliad, which is where the quote Snape reads is from.  
><strong>

"That was a bit too close for comfort." Aphrodite paced back and forth, deep in thought. "If young Mr. Malfoy hadn't interrupted that little display of passion, Demeter might have had a new son-in-law come morning. Despite her protests, I don't think Mr. Weasley is any more acceptable to her than Hades."

Eros sunk dejectedly onto his mother's fainting couch. His wings suddenly perked up as a comical thought occurred to him. "Can you imagine the look on Demeter's face if Persephone presented that gingerhead to her as the new King of Spring?"

A giggle bubbled up from Aphrodite's throat. With fingers delicately pressed to her lips to stem her mirth, she composed herself enough to add, "Can you imagine Persephone asking Zeus to make him a _god_? What could he possibly be the god of?"

"I don't know… perhaps flying brooms?" Eros chuckled as Aphrodite shook in suppressed laughter. "I thought Persephone would never tear him away from that Quidditch display."

Aphrodite sighed as she leaned against the back of the couch. Her tone grew more serious. "What shall we do about the redhead? We have to dispose of him somehow. Perhaps some sort of accident with one of those beloved brooms…"

"I wouldn't go there," Eros warned. "It would be a pity to turn him into a martyr for whom she'd pine the rest of her life."

"True. We both know how well that strategy worked for Demeter on Hades. Perhaps if we simply plant the idea of a new romance… difficult, it's true, since the carrot top was her first serious love… but perhaps not impossible."

"We could… assist… him in being placed on a Quidditch team. He'd be traveling quite a bit, leaving Persephone alone in the castle with Hades."

"That would take too long to set into action. They wouldn't be hiring mid- season," Aphrodite answered as she absently tapped her fingers against the top of the couch. "Besides, we'd run the risk of a farewell romp."

"I hadn't considered that." Eros' eyes lit up and his mouth curled into a mischievous smile. "What if we were to give the redhead a lust potion and just happen to place him in the proximity of a former flame… perhaps Lavender Brown?"

"What excuse would we use to bring them together?" Aphrodite asked.

"There would have to be some sort of event. Has their lot properly celebrated the defeat of Voldemort yet?"

"It's been a bit soon, I think. They've been too busy burying their dead."

"Then perhaps it's time to celebrate life for a little while with a party, a nice party where, by the way, certain people can get a little drunk and forget what they're doing."

"The ginger git just happens to be in Miss Lavender's proximity... Old feelings are rekindled…"

"Persephone sees them together…."

Aphrodite smirked triumphantly. "We wouldn't even need a lust potion! Just Dionysius and a little wine!" Her face fell. "Dionysius wouldn't willingly help us, though."

"Why? I know he claims neutrality concerning the wager, but you can't tell me he wouldn't be up for a party."

"He wouldn't want to appear to be siding with us against Demeter…."

Eros laughed. "If Demeter wasn't so proud she'd be _begging_ us for help. She may hate Hades, but he can at least string two intelligible sentences together."

"You have a point," Aphrodite hummed. "Let's find Dionysius and see if he's interested in hosting a little Wizarding get-together."

* * *

><p><em>Paris, you handsome, woman-mad deceiver, you shouldn't have been born, or killed unmarried. I wish you had - it would have been far better Than having you our shame, whom all suspect Or having the long-haired Acheans laugh When you appear as champion-champion beauty - But have no strength, nor character, nor courage.<em>

A knock on the door interrupted Snape's reading. He marked his place with his fingerand called, "Who is it?"

"Lucius," a muffled voice on the other side of the door replied.

Snape felt his heart stop as he carefully closed the _Iliad_. Sliding the book face-down onto the bedside table, he warily replied, "Enter."

Lucius stepped cautiously inside the room, almost as if he was afraid that any sudden movement on his part might prove the image before him to be nothing but a cruel illusion. "You…you're really alive," he whispered as the door clicked behind him.

"Apparently so," Snape drawled.

"I would have come sooner, but we were under house arrest."

"House arrest?" Snape asked incredulously. "Not Azkaban?"

"We defected quite publicly at the last minute… took Draco and simply walked away from the battle. The Dark Lord had proven that he didn't care if any of us lived or died. I saw no reason for us to care whether or not he did."

"Draco is alive…" Snape mused as Lucius took a seat.

"He's alive and well. If he wasn't tending to his mother, he'd be here right now."

"What's wrong with Narcissa?"

"The flu," Lucius answered. "Just the flu, thank Merlin. She is feeling somewhat better today, but she's still running a bit of a fever."

"I hope she has a swift recovery."

"Thank you."

An awkward silence descended upon them. "I didn't know," Lucius finally rasped.

"Didn't know what?"

"I didn't know what the Dark Lord had planned," Lucius cleared his throat and continued in a slightly stronger voice. "If I had known he wanted to kill you for the Elder Wand, I would have warned you… perhaps tried to buy you some time while you formulated a plan…"

"We both know that would have been impossible."

"I snuck into the Shack after he had left... I tried to stop the bleeding, but your injuries were too great. There was just so much blood… I thought you were already gone."

"You tried to save me?"

"Of course I tried to save you. You saved Draco," Lucius' normally smooth baritone cracked. "I felt for a pulse, but I couldn't find one. Narcissa finally convinced me to leave because the Dark Lord had finally found the boy. You were my friend, a godfather to my son, closer than a brother… and I thanked you by betraying you. I…I helped him murder you."

"Clearly not or we wouldn't be having this conversation," Snape said dryly.

"I'd like to hear how you pulled that off. I summoned you for him… and when I found you afterwards I left you for dead, certain there was no hope that you could have survived. I couldn't get the image of your bloody corpse out of my mind—it haunted me. If we hadn't been under such heavy guard, I might've ended everything. The guilt..."

"It's done, Lucius. You weren't the one to save me, but I survived just the same. It's time to move on."

"I had to see you for myself. I couldn't trust that Granger and Weasley were telling the truth when they said you were alive. Draco got your room number from them."

"Where did you see Granger?"

"At the Hogwarts exhibit. It's a pity you could not attend."

"There will be others..."

Snape picked at a loose thread on one of his sheets. "Lucius?"

"Yes?"

"Did you see a young boy in or near the Shack when you found me?"

"No. Why?"

"Because Granger said that a young boy alerted her that I was alive."

Lucius shifted in the chair. "Perhaps he snuck into the Shack after I left. It's surprising that he thought to get Granger, though… even more astounding that she was able to pull you through. I honestly thought you were dead."

"Apparently she did, too, when she left the first time."

"She was with you before?" Lucius' eyebrows shot up.

"She witnessed the attack along with Potter and Weasley. I must have passed out shortly after. Even then, they thought I was gone. She claims that a boy found her much later to tell her that I was still alive. Somehow she managed to restore my life."

"How?" Lucius frowned.

"That's what I'd like to know. She's never given me a straight answer."

"Well, you are alive. Perhaps that in itself is enough. Plus, for the first time in your life, you're free."

"Not as free as you may think."

"What do you mean?"

"I am returning to Hogwarts as Headmaster."

"Do you think that's wise?" Lucius' brow furrowed in concern.

"Do you honestly think Slytherin families will be able to educate their children there if I don't?"

"That's quite… altruistic of you, Severus." Lucius drawled. "But why should you care? Haven't you already done quite enough for Hogwarts?"

"Not yet," Severus responded. Smiling grimly, he continued, "But I intend to change that."


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Thanks so much for reading, putting this on alert, favoriting, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate it all!**

**I don't own anything you recognize.**

Minerva blinked to shield her eyes from the onslaught of camera flashes. Reporters murmured as they scribbled in their notebooks, speculating with each other about the nature of the hastily called press conference. The name "Snape" floated its way to the dais several times, but Minerva appeared not to notice.

Emotion welled up within her as she gazed out over a scene that was the setting for a particularly difficult funeral service just over a year ago. It felt more like ten years… so much had come to pass. Standing in this place gave her an odd sense of closure and a modicum of hope for a new beginning. She glanced over at Hermione, who was near the front of the crowd along with most of the Hogwarts staff. Hermione winked her encouragement, eliciting a small smile. In the distance a Merperson surfaced with a faint splash.

"They're ready to begin when you are," Professor Vector whispered. Hagrid solemnly stood guard over the rowdier representatives of the press corps.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." The reporters fell silent, quills poised. "Thank you for coming out on this fine summer day. I'd imagine you are all curious as to why I have called this press conference."

Her words prompted a series of fresh splashes, revealing an additional half dozen curious Merpeople. Even the residents of the Black Lake could sense the winds of change.

"As many of you may now know, it has recently been revealed that Severus Snape was working as a double agent during the war. While appearing to be one of the most trusted servants of He Who Must Not Be Named, he was in reality working for the Order of the Phoenix, obtaining valuable intelligence from the opposition that saved more than a few lives. Without his efforts, the war would most certainly have been lost."

Minerva glanced up to gauge her audience's reaction, then continued. "You may have also read that Severus Snape survived a debilitating snake attack and is now conscious. In fact, he is making a remarkable recovery and expects to be released from the hospital shortly. While this news is cause for great celebration, it also creates an unusual problem in that Hogwarts currently claims two Headmasters. As a result..." The crowd broke out in hushed whispers and panicked speculation. Minerva felt the warm breeze ruffle her hair as she continued in a louder voice, "As a result, I intend to resolve this dilemma today by resigning from my post as Headmistress of Hogwarts, effective immediately."

The crowd erupted. Several of the professors had been taken completely by surprise, their jaws hanging unattractively open. Hermione stood in stoic silence, betraying neither surprise not outrage. Cameras flashed all around her, causing her to close her eyes to shut out the light.

"How could you?" A reporter yelled as he surged forward from the crowd. Hagrid caught him and tossed him back into the assembled mass. "The position of Headmaster has belonged to a Gryffindor since 1956! How can you throw that away on a _Death Eater_?"

Minerva cast a Sonorus Spell and continued, "It is past time for a new beginning!"

The crowd settled down momentarily to better hear her response. "Wizarding Britain has been deeply wounded by the war. It is time for healing to occur not only amongst those who were likeminded, but also among those who were not likeminded. It is time for our houses to be unified. Accepting Severus Snape back in his role as the rightful Headmaster and allowing me to resume my duties as Deputy Headmistress sends a strong message of Hogwarts unity!"

"Do you actually believe that he was a spy?" A voice shouted from the crowd. "Have you already forgotten that Snape became headmaster only after killing the previous one?"

Minerva bowed her head and took a deep breath before answering. "I have not forgotten. How could anyone forget those days? Yet what we were led to believe was not the entire story. I have seen Headmaster Snape's memories of the conversations with Professor Dumbledore leading up to those events and I am fully satisfied with his explanation. I hope you know that I would never consider entrusting the students, teachers, and staff of Hogwarts to him under any other circumstances."

"But he'll favour the Slytherins!" another reporter shouted.

Minerva's eyes hardened in resolve. "House favouritism has long been an unfortunate consequence of house competition. Headmaster Snape and I are both committed to setting a different tone so that inter-house rivalries become a thing of the past. Inter-house cooperation will be rewarded as liberally as inter-house competition."

"With all due respect, Headmistress, leopards don't change their spots. Of all the headmasters, Snape was by far the worst about favouring his house."

"No," Minerva answered in a firm voice. "He was not. That dubious honour belongs to Albus Dumbledore."

That last statement was met with stunned silence followed by several angry outbursts. Hagrid managed to restore order with a series of exceedingly stern looks.

"We remain on schedule in our school renovations. Hogwarts will be open by September as planned. Any other questions may be submitted to me in letter form. I will do my best to reply in a timely fashion. In addition, Headmaster Snape has requested that you respect his privacy, at least until the beginning of the fall semester. I'd suggest you honour that request. Thank you, that is all."

With that, Minerva strode back to the castle with Hagrid at her side to shield her from the reporters. Once through the main door, she headed directly to the Headmistress' chambers to promptly remove her things. Stepping into the Headmaster's office for a final time, she was greeted by the applause of her deceased peers. "Well done, Minerva… well done!"

* * *

><p>"Dionysus?"<p>

"Yes," the god of wine drawled.

Aphrodite and Eros entered to find Dionysus lounging comfortably on a royal purple divan, cradling an emerald-studded goblet in his hand. Standing at attention nearby was his cup bearer, a mysterious man dressed in black Victorian era attire holding a service tray made of gold. A bulbous mustache dominated the man's features, completely obscuring his mouth. Around his neck was a curious medallion depicting a theatre mask which seemed to be perpetually at odds with the man's emotions. His laughter would bring forth "tragedy"; his tears summoned "comedy". How this man had come to be in Dionysus' company none of the gods knew, but no one questioned his presence. He had become somewhat of a fixture the past hundred years or so and quite frankly, they often forgot he was not one of them.

Eros swallowed nervously as he approached. The cup bearer glanced at Eros and nodded an acknowledgement. "Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice."

"Friedrich, please fetch these lovely people some wine," Dionysus purred as he cast a seductive look at Aphrodite. "Only our best will do."

"That won't be necessary," Aphrodite demurred. "This is not a social call."

"Surely you wouldn't object to a little… socialization. After all, in wine there is love," Dionysus' eyes sparkled invitingly.

"Of course love is connected to wine," Aphrodite smiled soothingly. "That's why we need your help."

"Help with what?" Dionysus' expression sobered as he beckoned for Friedrich to approach.

"Do you realize that Britain has yet to properly celebrate Voldemort's defeat?" Eros asked.

Dionysus sat up completely and placed his goblet on the proffered golden tray. "Strange. You'd think they'd be ecstatic. What do you think is taking them so long?"

"Funerals. Grief…" Eros responded, watching with fascination as the cup bearer's medallion turned to comedy.

"Ah… that _would_ place a damper on things."

"But it's about time for them to turn their focus to what they've gained, not just what they've lost, don't you think?" Aphrodite asked.

Dionysus raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, but the question begs: why do you care? Why should it matter to either of you whether the wizards celebrate or not?"

"Certain… alliances… are being formed that are… let's say… ill-conceived," Eros began, choosing his words with great care. "We believe that a celebration might reveal the true colors of the parties involved and prevent those alliances from… shall we say… being consummated?"

"Ahhh… Persephone and the ginger git," Dionysus slowly grinned in understanding. "That's why you need my help."

"A few cups of wine… perhaps the reintroduction of an old flame… and nature will most certainly take its course."

"But couldn't that also work against you? What's to prevent Persephone from overindulging and claiming her man for eternity?" Dionysus asked.

"Persephone is a sensible drinker. The git… not so much," Aphrodite answered.

"It's true that Persephone has been irritatingly unwilling to sample my wares," Dionysus mused. "Always troubled me. What kind of person turns down wine?"

"So you accept the challenge?"

"It would take very little effort to put together a little soiree and I might even find the exercise enjoyable…" Dionysus admitted. "But it might appear that I was breaking my neutrality and choosing a side."

"Whose side would you claim?" Eros responded. "Demeter wants the gingerhead gone as badly as we do."

"Quite true," Dionysius chuckled, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Friedrich. Eros gaped as the mask turned to "tragedy". "She keeps trying to bribe Zeus into sending stray lightning bolts his way."

"Then it would seem that we are united in our goal. You are restless for a party and the rest of us need an excuse to rid Persephone of a liability," Aphrodite replied.

"I shall set things in motion at once," Dionysius answered, standing to his feet. "It would do my spirit good to consort with revelers again. Everything has been so dreary, what with the war and all. For a while there, I despaired of being welcomed anywhere besides university campuses anymore. People need to be reminded of the value of having a good party every now and then."

"So true," Aphrodite grinned.

"Come, Friedrich! I'm going to need a human disguise and a suitable pub. You can assist me with both." Long-dormant creative juices flowing once again, Dionysius strode out of the room, dictating a mental "to do" list as he went. With an apologetic glance for his master's forgotten manners, Friedrich followed close behind.

Aphrodite and Eros smiled at each other in triumph. Ronald Weasley would be out of the picture in no time.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Took me forever to upload this! Stupid glitches in this site. Hopefully this uploaded, although I suppose if you're reading this you already know if it has or not. Anyway, thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all of the support!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

"Headmaster Snape," Hermione called as she rapped on the door.

"Enter," Snape replied, closing the _Odyssey_ with a snap_._

Hermione toed open the door and stepped inside, struggling to keep a large garment bag from sweeping the floor. Snape was still dressed in his blue hospital gown, but freshly washed hair and a clean bandage indicated that he was preparing for his release. Hermione's attention turned to the book in his hands. "Are you still reading that?"

"For the third time," Snape answered a bit defensively.

Hermione smiled, "Professor McGonagall and I would have been happy to bring you others if you had just asked."

"I have been quite content, thank you very much. I find that a second and even a third reading often deepens one's understanding of subtleties that might escape notice the first time around."

"Looking for anything in particular?" Hermione asked conversationally as she set the garment bag on the chair beside his bed.

Snape straightened himself uncomfortably and answered, "Not really."

Hermione took his evasiveness as a cue to change the subject. "The Mediwitches said you could be released today."

"I've already signed the paperwork," Snape answered. "I was waiting on Minerva to pick me up. Where is she?"

"There was a transfiguration emergency, a thirteen year old boy who decided to try his hand at an animagus spell. He makes a fine-looking warthog, but can't seem to transform himself back."

"He did this at the school?"

"No, he tried to do it secretly at home. From what I understand, his parents are better skilled at Divination than they are at Transfiguration. The tea leaves did not look promising for a home cure and they were afraid that if they'd taken him here to St. Mungo's, he would have been in trouble with the Ministry."

"I see," Snape answered. "Let's hope he has learned his lesson. I don't relish trying to explain the presence of a warthog at Hogwarts this autumn."

"Indeed," Hermione stifled a giggle. "Minerva does send her regards, and plans to brief you as soon as she is free. She'd like to go over the book inventory with you today, if you're feeling up to it."

"It will be a relief to focus on something productive for a change. How has the rest of the staff reacted to her announcement?"

"Once Professor McGonagall explained her reasoning, they understood. Many are deeply sorry about how they treated you."

"I am not interested in apologies," Snape replied. "I am interested in getting the school up and running again."

"I believe we're all on the same page there." Hermione noticed a stack of parchments on the bedside table. "I don't suppose those are offers of support from wealthy donors…"

"I wish," Snape replied wryly. "No, these are letters from my… fans."

"Really?" Hermione replied with a touch of amusement. "That didn't take long. Of course, if that stack is any indication of your popularity, we should have no difficulty recruiting new students for Hogwarts."

"Sadly, those letters aren't from parents." Snape frowned. "They are mostly from alarmingly bold witches who would like to _become_ parents."

"I see," Hermione giggled, envisioning Snape being mobbed by a throng of admirers. Her expression sobered when the scene shifted to the image of a particularly stunning red-headed witch beckoning an all-too-willing Snape into an empty classroom.

'_Where did that come from?' _she wondered. Clearly she needed to get a grip on her imagination. Shaking the image from her head, Hermione stated, "I brought you a set of robes so you wouldn't have to go home in a hospital gown."

"Much appreciated, Miss Granger."

With a deep breath, Snape pulled himself up and turned until his feet dangled over the edge of the bed. He stretched and flexed his legs before tentatively edging one foot to the ground. The frigid floor made him wince, but he soldiered on until both feet were firmly planted. With great effort he pushed himself up from the bed, stood, and took a few wobbly steps towards the chair.

"Would you like some assistance, Headmaster?"

Snape smiled dryly, his lips twitching in an effort to contain his amusement. "I think propriety would dictate that I had better dress myself, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed profusely. "I meant with the garment bag, Sir."

"Of course you did, Miss Granger." Snape elevated the bag with a stroke of his wand. "But that's what magic is for. Now if you'll excuse me for a few minutes…"

Straightening his back, he made his way to the lavatory to change.

'_I can't believe it,' _Hermione mused._ 'He can even make a hospital gown billow.'_

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you wouldn't like to floo into the Entrance Hall?" Hermione asked.<p>

"I am quite positive, Miss Granger. I do not wish to speak to the other professors at this time."

"But as Headmaster, you're going to have to speak with them sooner or later," Hermione reasoned.

"Not until I have something of use to say. I'd like to assess the damage to the school first-hand and privately without having to suffer apologies and emotional scenes. I don't have the patience for that today. Besides," Snape smirked, "I need to ascertain that my quarters are indeed green and silver, as requested."

"I've assured you that they are."

"But Minerva's absence does not quell my suspicion."

Hermione smirked as she took a handful of floo powder. "It's probably better for you to go to the Headmaster's office first, anyway. You will need some time to settle in. Perhaps you will be ready to talk to the other professors after you've had a chance to acclimate yourself."

"Perhaps," Snape muttered as Hermione activated the floo.

"Headmaster Snape's chambers!" she called.

They stepped into the fireplace and re-emerged in a dark room dominated by a canopy bed draped in emerald satin. To the left of the bed was an ebony chest of drawers. Across the room was an ebony wardrobe, the door partially open to expose a collection of dark robes. The room was stark, but it had a simple beauty about it. Snape glanced around in barely suppressed relief. "Well at least she got the colouring right."

"I'd think you'd be quite pleased with it."

"It will do."

"Would you like to see your office?"

"I suppose I should."

The two stepped through a connecting door into the Headmaster's office. Snape smiled as he glanced around. "It's exactly as I left it except…" Snape carefully scanned the walls, "Where is Dumbledore's portrait?"

"It was destroyed in the fire along with a few others," Hermione replied. "We're looking for someone to repaint it, but so far we haven't had much luck."

"I will see to that as soon as I am able." Snape took a seat behind his desk, leaned back, and stretched. "It's good to be out of that hospital bed."

"I'll bet it is," Hermione smiled as she reached into her pocket for a tiny box. "The Healers and Mediwitches said you shouldn't eat solid food for a few more days."

"The mush they insist on feeding me is horrendous," Snape groaned. "I'd almost rather starve."

"I have an alternative."

Snape watched with interest as the box slowly grew in Hermione's hand, causing her to flinch after a few seconds. "It's ice cream."

"Looks like you must have cast quite a cooling spell on it."

"I did," she answered, placing it on his desk. "I bought chocolate. Vanilla seemed too plain and I didn't think you'd be the sort to enjoy strawberry..."

"Chocolate is fine," Snape replied as he peeked into the box. "For the record, my favourite flavour is mint."

Hermione frowned. "I've never cared for mint."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Odd, coming from the daughter of two dentists."

"I use cinnamon or if I'm desperate, spearmint toothpaste. Peppermint makes me ill."

"Fascinating." Snape eyed her thoughtfully. "If you'd be so kind as to provide us with two bowls and some spoons, I think we can agree to share the chocolate."

"I'd love to," Hermione smiled as she transfigured a paperweight and a coaster into the proper vessels and filled them with the creamy dessert.

Picking up a spoon, Snape closed his eyes and savoured his first taste of home.


	15. Chapter 15

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He was unprepared for the destruction he found in what was left of the Great Hall.

The whimsical enchanted ceiling was gone and the walls were in various stages of reconstruction, permitting the late afternoon humidity access to oppress its visitors. Dust and bits of rock still littered the floor, but it was unclear whether it was from the remains of the battle or from the attempts at repair. Gone were the long tables laden with food, the chairs, and any sign of the festivities, great or small, that had taken place through the centuries within the confines of the half-repaired walls. If Hogwarts tradition hadn't mandated that Snape give his first speech to the Professors in the Great Hall he gladly would've delivered it somewhere less desolate.

The remaining faculty eyed him from across the room with a mixture of sadness, suspicion, and regret. Minerva and Hermione wore encouraging smiles in an attempt to dispel some of the tension they all felt. Snape swallowed and began, "Thank you, everyone, for gathering here on such short notice."

A few curt nods were the only response to his greeting. Snape continued determinedly, "The evidence around us testifies to the hardships the past year placed on this school. I cannot undo the damage the Dark Lord caused, nor can I erase the pain and loss of the years leading up to this devastation. I can only hope to lead us all into a new, brighter chapter in Hogwarts history."

Once again his words were met with silence.

"Why didn' yeh tell us?" Hagrid finally voiced what most of them were thinking. "We wouldn' have hated yeh if we knew what yeh were tryin' ta do."

A few professors nodded their agreement. Snape sighed. "We all had our parts to play. If you hadn't viewed me with genuine contempt and suspicion, the Dark Lord would not have believed I was firmly on his side."

"But I feel so horrible," Professor Hooch chimed in. "The things I used to call you… the ways I worked to undermine you. Couldn't you have trusted us to keep your secret?"

Her pleading eyes were a Cruciatus to his heart. "I did what I thought best," he finally answered.

"It nearly cost you your life," Professor Vector noted.

"I was prepared to die. Thankfully, Miss Granger had other ideas..."

"Excuse me," Minerva gently interrupted, "But 'Miss Granger' is no longer a student here, Severus. Perhaps it would now be more appropriate to refer to her as 'Hermione'."

Snape stared long and hard at Minerva, trying to come to grips with the idea. Finally he sighed, "Old habits die hard, Minerva… It will take some time, but I will try. Are there any further questions?"

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Severus" Slughorn replied expansively with murmurs of assent quickly rising from the rest of the staff.

"It is an honour to be back. I have missed all of you. Such an occasion customarily calls for a feast…" Snape glanced around the enclosure with a critical eye. "…but I don't think the Great Hall is yet up to the task."

"Tradition does require a feast," Professor Sprout noted with a grin. "But it has never specified that it had to be held in the Great Hall."

"Do you have another place in mind?" Snape asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"The Three Broomsticks!" Hooch suggested. "It's the perfect place to visit with old friends, enjoy a good meal, and have a bit to drink."

"I think we could all benefit from a pint or two," Slughorn interjected.

Snape scowled at the thought of reining in a tipsy staff this early in his tenure. "Perhaps we should go to an establishment with a bit more decorum..."

"Come now Severus, you like the Three Broomsticks just as much as the rest of us," Minerva cajoled.

"You're alive, Headmaster! It's high time you celebrate!" Madame Pomfrey added.

Snape wagged his head in defeat. "Fine, but do try to remember that we represent Hogwarts even when we are outside its borders so please exert at least a modicum of self-control."

"But of course. Now let's go eat. I'm hungry," Minerva glowed in triumph.

With that, the Hogwarts professors crowded into the nearest floo with Snape scowling right behind them.

* * *

><p>"Just think of the potential boon to your business!" the mysterious client with an unfamiliar accent reasoned. "It's well known that your reputation took a hit when someone smuggled those poisoned items into Hogwarts from your establishment!"<p>

"Draco put me under an Imperius curse," Rosmerta answered with a frown. "I never intended to help the Death Eaters."

"I know, but some people haven't heard that part of the story."

"What people?" Rosmerta asked with a raised eyebrow.

The client turned to the man sitting on his left. "Friedrich, did you know that Draco Malfoy had placed Madam Rosemerta under an Imperius curse?"

"Did he now? This is the first I've heard of it!"

Rosmerta sighed. "I appreciate the sentiment of the party and the price you are willing to pay to reserve my pub is certainly tempting. But you are asking too much. It would take me a week to clean up after the type of celebration you describe."

"Think of it as a business opportunity. Besides, I will hold myself personally responsible for setting everything right when the evening is finished."

"You'll clean the entire pub?" Rosmerta asked, leaning onto the counter.

"We'll even scrub your floors."

"I'd like to see that in writing," Rosmerta grinned predatorily.

The client opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the entrance of a noisy group of Hogwarts professors. The client and Friedrich craned their necks for a better view. "It seems that some are already receptive to my influence," the patron whispered to his partner in undisguised glee.

Hermione wandered inside, apparently lost in thought. Snape followed close behind, suppressing a scowl with very little success. "Well, perhaps a few are, anyway," Friedrich smirked. His medallion flipped to reveal 'tragedy'.

Snape strode toward the table the faculty chose, but found seating there for just one more. Hermione turned to him and began to excuse herself. "I really shouldn't be here- I'm not technically a staff member. If you don't mind, I'll just call it a night."

"There is still seating at the bar, Miss Granger. In fact, I'll join you there—it will give me an excuse to dine in relative peace."

"Relative peace? Remember who you're talking to, Headmaster!" Hermione laughed.

"Indeed." Snape deadpanned as he saw to the comfort of his staff, informed Rosmerta of his responsibility for the bill, and then joined Hermione at the bar. A quick glance to his left revealed an odd man wearing a strange medallion and a ridiculous moustache looking at him with unmasked curiosity. Slightly disconcerted, Snape turned his back to the inquisitive onlooker and said, "You could join the rest of the faculty if you'd prefer, Miss Granger. There is still one seat left."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "But I'm perfectly content at the bar. Will you be able to find anything appropriate on the menu? I didn't even think about what a feast would be like for you in light of your new diet."

"I'll find something acceptable, I'm sure," he answered, studying the menu with a frown.

Two chairs down, he heard someone working hard to convince Rosmerta to host some sort of party. By the expression in her eyes, he could see she was tempted to accept the offer.

"You don't have to call me Hermione if you'd prefer not to..."

Snape turned to examine the source of the non sequitor. "I beg your pardon?"

"I heard what Professor McGonagall said, but you don't have to call me Hermione. I know you aren't used to it, and I can't blame you for not feeling comfortable with the idea. The thought of calling you Severus is awkward for me, too…."

"I would prefer that you address me as Headmaster," Snape responded. "But I will attempt to address you however you would prefer to be addressed. Minerva is correct; you are no longer a student and perhaps it would be wise to acknowledge that in some way."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"You're welcome… Hermione."

"I'm sure Headmaster Snape would welcome the idea of a party to help restore faith in Hogwarts!" Friedrich's companion began.

Snape slowly turned to face the speaker. "Have we met?"

"How are you on this fine day?" the companion replied with a wink.

"Very well, thank you," Snape answered, eyeing the two with suspicion while scouring his memory in order to place them.

"These men are trying to convince me to rent out the Three Broomsticks for a party next Saturday to celebrate the end of the war," Rosmerta explained. "But they're talking about a pretty elaborate to-do and I don't trust them to return the pub in one piece."

"They aren't giving themselves much time to plan such an event," Snape noted.

"We've staged successful functions under much shorter deadlines. We are simply of the opinion that the end of the war should finally be celebrated. The past several weeks have been filled with enough funerals and solemn ceremonies to last a lifetime. It's time to celebrate the joys of freedom."

"Would you attend, Headmaster? You of all people should have reason to celebrate." Friedrich pleaded.

"I don't know… Soirées give me a headache," Snape answered.

Friedrich's eyes flashed in sympathy. "I used to suffer from migraines. They're the worst."

"Then you can understand my reluctance to attend..."

"However, don't you think it's time to celebrate your survival, rather than sitting around all day eating mush?" Friedrich asked.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "How would you know what I eat?"

Friedrich's eyes flashed in momentary panic before he answered, "You've been in the hospital over a month, sir. No one eats much more than mush the first days after an ordeal like that."

"Indeed," Snape drawled as he finally made the connection. "I will consider it."

"Good!" the client exclaimed before turning to Rosmerta. "I believe we have our first guest."

"I'll come, too," Hermione smiled. "I'll even convince Ron to attend. We haven't been to a proper party since Bill and Fleur's wedding reception."

"Three guests!"

"Fine," Rosmerta surrendered as Friedrich turned to her in triumph. "But there are going to be some ground rules…."


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I deeply appreciate all the support!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Hermione left the Three Broomsticks wearing an irrepressible smile. Her conversation with Headmaster Snape had been surprisingly… enjoyable. Once Friedrich and his friend had ironed out the details of their soiree with Rosmerta, Snape returned his attention to her. He asked about her and Minerva's research project and listened… _really listened…_ as she outlined their progress. From time to time he would interrupt to question her on a point of theory but all in all he was quite supportive, even offering some insight into potions research that might prove useful. She was itching to test the new ideas swimming in her head.

Then again, that swimming sensation could be the effect of those two glasses of wine...

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione spun around to find a stunningly beautiful woman with long blond hair standing beside a street vendor's cart. She wore a white sleeveless dress, scandalously low-cut by Wizarding standards. Her eyes were a soft inviting blue.

_Strange to find a vendor out on the street so late at night, _Hermione thought.

"How do you know my name?" Hermione asked as she stepped closer to the stranger.

"I'd think you'd be more surprised if I _didn't_ know your name. You've been on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ more times than not the past several weeks," the woman replied with a welcoming woman chose a box from the cart and extended it to Hermione, who raised a questioning eyebrow. "In gratitude for all you've done for the Wizarding World, I'd like you to have a bottle of my perfume."

Hermione cautiously accepted the gift and read the label. "Pomegranate?"

"It's a wonderful scent, practically irresistible to men. Here, smell it."

The woman opened the bottle and waved it under Hermione's nose. "It's lovely," Hermione commented with a note of surprise.

"Men are very scent-oriented creatures. Even before they actually see a woman, they'll notice her scent. This is one scent they can't ignore."

"I don't think Ron is much of a fruit lover," Hermione reflected as the woman flashed a moue of distaste. "But I guess it couldn't hurt to try something new. How much is it?"

"For you dear, it's free."

"Thank you, Madame….?"

"Call me Cypris."

"Thank you, Cypris. I'll look forward to wearing it!" Hermione smiled before continuing on her way home. When she finally stepped inside her door, she held the bottle up to the light, admiring the way its ruby red hue shone through the prism of the cut glass. _I'd better test it for Dark magic in the morning. One can never be too careful these days…_

Meanwhile Cypris beamed in triumph before disappearing with a "Top that, Demeter!"

The empty cart, having served its purpose, remained behind.

* * *

><p>"I think we have your father's defence in order now." Harry gathered his notes together and placed them in his bag.<p>

"I hope so," Luna answered as she bowed her head. "I do miss him."

"I can only imagine how difficult this all must be."

"It is hard. I trust you, Harry, I truly do." Luna exhaled. "Still, I can't help but wonder how he's doing, and what will happen to him if we aren't able to get him out."

Harry stood up and gently took hold of her hand. "We will prove that he acted out of fear, not hatred, Luna. Besides, without his help we would never have understood the significance of the Hallows."

"Thank you," Luna whispered as she stood up and squeezed his hand, drawing comfort from his touch.

"I was thinking… if you aren't busy, maybe we could have dinner or something."

"Oh," Luna quickly pulled her hand away. "I don't think that would be a good idea. I…I have to hunt butterbees. They'll only be out tonight."

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "I didn't mean it like that… like a date. I just thought you might not want to be alone."

"Thank you, Harry, but I'll be fine," Luna answered as she hurriedly grabbed her bag. "I'm used to being on my own. It doesn't bother me at all."

Luna darted away, leaving Harry standing in the room alone. He took a deep breath before collecting the rest of his things. Just as he was about to leave, a misty horse burst into the room. "Harry?"

"Yes Ginny?" Harry asked.

"I just wanted to know if you were interested in going to the Fat Olive tonight. It's been so long since just the two of us were together..."

"Sure," Harry answered. "Just let me finish up here. I'll be ready in about five minutes."

"Fine. I'll be at the Burrow."

The horse then faded, leaving Harry alone in his office with the lingering scent of Luna's citrus perfume.

* * *

><p>Snape stared at the photo in the book. There was no denying the resemblance of the man in the pub to this photo of a statue. He was also certain that the man in the pub was one of the men in the gallery at his trial. What were the odds in these modern times of running across someone who was the very image of a Greek god?<p>

The man in the pub was the spit and image of Dionysus.

Snape thumbed through several more pages, but could find no similar statue of the companion, Friedrich. Snape could only guess who he really was… possibly some ancient dissolute party animal, an actor, or even a wine connoisseur who had somehow gained Dionysius' favour. Regardless, Snape knew he'd seen Friedrich at the trial, as well.

Snape slammed the book shut, unsure if he was more shocked that Dionysus actually existed or that he had been sitting at the Three Broomsticks talking with him as if he was just any old wizard off the street. Could the god have been seeking him out? If so, he didn't seem terribly interested in speaking with him. Friedrich had done most of the talking.

But honestly, other than the fact that the wine would flow, why would Dionysus care if Wizarding Britain celebrated the fall of Voldemort ? Surely he had higher concerns. What could Dionysus possibly hope to achieve unless….

Snape sank into his office chair and folded his hands in thought. What if Dionysus was setting a trap for him? Fully aware of the gods' penchant for scheming, it could be quite possible that Demeter had solicited Dionysus' help in bringing some horrible ill to Snape.

Did Dionysius think he was Hades, too?

Two can play at this game, Snape thought. After all, the god of wine cannot resist the fruit of the vine, but I know how to stay sober. When he and Friedrich become too intoxicated, I'll pull them aside for questioning and get to the bottom of this.

What if this alleged Persephone is there?

Snape paused for a moment to consider the thought while the portraits of the Headmasters dozed in their frames.

Well they can just keep Persephone, Snape thought. I am quite satisfied alone.


	17. Chapter 17

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"Set that fountain in the middle of the room. It'll be the focal point for the festivities," Dionysus instructed as he wandlessly parted the tables on either side to make way for the gaudy gilded monstrosity. Friedrich murmured, "A little to the left… now to the right… watch out for that support beam!" while one of Rosmerta's employees levitated the fountain into place.

"What exactly are you planning to fill it with?" Rosmerta asked as she stepped in for a closer look. "It must take at least sixty gallons to fill."

"Wine," Dionysus answered with a satisfied smile.

"Wine?" Rosmerta asked in disbelief.

"Yes, wine. Only the best. It's what I do."

"But…Merlin, how much are you planning to spend on this party?" Rosmerta asked.

Friedrich gestured for the fountain to be rotated a little to the left, then nodded to Rosemerta's employee and gave him a smiling thumbs-up. Dionysus chuckled. "My finances are not your concern. I can assure you that your expenses will be paid in full."

Rosmerta raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Give me a bit of credit. You have to admit that it's a little odd for someone to just show up out of the blue and offer to throw a party of this magnitude when we really still have no idea who you are, where you live, or what your motives are."

"The name 'Dionysus' pretty much tells you everything you need to know about me," he patiently explained. "I own several homes throughout the world and I want to throw a party here because my life's mission is to spread joy."

One of the workers charged with hanging decorations called out, "Where do we put the laurel?"

"Twine it up the banister like garland and drape some from the chandelier!" Dionysus called back.

"How are we supposed to make it stick?"

Dionysus sighed. "Friedrich, please give them the incantation."

Friedrich walked over and whispered something into the worker's ear. Rosmerta frowned in thought. "Can't he cast the spell himself?"

"He cannot perform any magic aside from what I allot him."

"You're teaching magic to a Muggle?" she gasped.

Friedrich turned and glared, his medallion registering 'comedy'.

"Friedrich is not exactly a Muggle." Dionysus shot his companion a warning glance.

"Then he's a squib?"

"Of sorts."

Friedrich stiffly returned to his supervision of the decorations.

"How did you and Friedrich meet each other?"

Dionysus paused thoughtfully before answering, "It's complicated… let's just say we met when he was at the University studying Greek philology."

"And what were you doing?"

"Drinking."

Rosmerta stifled a snort. "You don't say…"

"The wine is here!" Friedrich announced with a twinkle in his eye as his medallion turned to tragedy.

"Excellent!" Dionysus crowed. "Friedrich, please help them in and show them the proper way to fill the fountain."

"Yes sir," Friedrich replied before dashing outside to assist with the delivery.

Rosmerta's eyes widened in alarm as she realized that the guests could not only fill their glasses from the fountain, but literally wade in it if they so chose. "You _are_ going to make sure this place is spotless after your little event, yes?"

"Have I broken any of my promises yet? Relax, Madame Rosmerta. I promised you that Friedrich and I will clean it up and we will keep our word."

"You'd better. That fountain looks like trouble just waiting to happen."

Dionysus eyes glimmered in anticipation, "I can assure you, my dear, that this will be a night to remember."

* * *

><p>"It feels strange to be named guests of honour for this thing." Ron plopped down on the couch next to Hermione and draped an arm around her, eliciting a warm smile.<p>

"I know," Harry answered. "Who would have guessed this time last year that we'd already be celebrating the end of the war?"

"It's been a part of our lives for so long," Hermione murmured as she leaned into Ron's arm. "Sometimes I still wake up thinking we're on the run."

"We'll never have to sleep in a tent again… not unless we really want to," Harry mused as Ginny scooted her chair closer.

"I was so worried about all of you," Ginny added. "I hope we never have to go through anything like that again."

"If I have anything to say about it, there will never be another wizarding war," Harry vowed. "In that respect, maybe this party tomorrow night is a good thing, celebrating the war that ends all wars… marking the beginning of a new age and all that."

Ron frowned. "I just wish Fred could be there to celebrate with us."

"I know," Harry answered, bowing his head.

"But… but he'd want us to celebrate," Ginny choked as a tear trickled down her cheek. "As hard as this will be, he was always ready to have a little fun. He'd hate for us to miss a party just because he's not here. Maybe if we celebrate in his honour, it will be a little like having him with us again. At least that's what George thinks."

"Exactly," Ron answered, forcing a smile. "Now who all is supposed to be invited to this thing?"

"The entire Hogwarts staff, for starters."

"The _entire_ staff?" Ron repeated, his arm stiffening.

Hermione's expression hardened, bracing for the fight. "Yes, the entire staff. It's a great promotional opportunity for the school."

"Can't Snape throw his own party?" Ron asked resentfully.

"Headmaster Snape is an invited guest. In fact, he was the first to be invited."

"Great, an evening with the git."

"He is actually very pleasant company under the right circumstances."

"That's true. We got along really well when he was comatose."

Harry intervened before Ron could do any more damage. "Regardless…I'm sure there will be plenty of other people there, too. Luna said she'd attend."

"That's great," Ginny answered. "She could use a night to get her mind off her problems. Her father's entering a plea in two weeks, isn't he?"

"That's right," Harry replied, eyeing Hermione warily as she continued to seethe.

"Do you think we'll have to wear dress robes?" Ron asked, grimacing at the memory of the Yule Ball.

"I'd wear something nice, but I don't think this is a formal event," Hermione replied stiffly.

"Good. I hate wearing all that faff," Ron replied, curling his arm even more tightly around Hermione. She moved forward, forcing him to loosen his grip. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered tightly, thoughts of the last time she saw Ron in dress robes at that disastrous Yule Ball adding to her irritation over his comments about the Headmaster. Her initial excitement over the upcoming celebration was quickly fading.

* * *

><p>"Ploutos?" Demeter spoke quietly into the entrance of the cave.<p>

A figure soon emerged, sharply dressed in an immaculately tailored suit and carrying a platinum-handled cane. A closer inspection somewhat dampened the initial effect, however. A silk patch covered one eye; the other eye was icy blue… cold… calculating. Something had disfigured his right leg; it was as if it had been broken and had failed to heal correctly, forcing him to move slowly and with great effort. His hair was a glossy midnight black, just like the tattered black feathers on his wings.

"Yes, Mother?"

"What news can you bring me from the underworld?" Demeter asked.

Ploutos smiled mirthlessly. "Charon is still missing. The souls awaiting transport are getting restless."

"Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"My guess is that he is still in the Forbidden Forest searching for the Resurrection Stone. He hates to surrender even one of his charges."

"That's a good place for him. The last thing we need is Charon's meddling on Hades' behalf."

"I agree," Ploutos answered. "Speaking of which… I have heard through the grapevine, pardon the pun, that Dionysus is throwing some sort of celebration tomorrow night for the wizarding folk. Some are saying that Aphrodite may have had a hand in it."

"I am aware of that."

"What do you plan to do about it then, Mother?"

"Not a thing," she answered. "They are playing right into my hands."

"How can that be? Their goal is to tempt the ginger to cheat on her. Won't that make her vulnerable to Hades' advances?"

"The 'ginger', as you say, has outlived his usefulness. He is getting far too close to the prize, making him more of a danger now than a distraction. Helpful as he has been in keeping Hades and Persephone separated, he simply is not deity material. Better to end the relationship sooner, rather than later."

"So you want them to break up?"

"Of course I do. And if the result is that Persephone becomes an embittered jilted lover, all the better."

"But she is of the opinion that love won the war. She will be compelled to love again."

"First of all, love did not win that insipid British war. Any non-magical mortal with half a brain could have defeated Voldemort." Frowning, she continued, "You are right though. Your sister is an insufferable sap. A hopeless romantic."

"What sort of man would you have Persephone wed?"

Demeter stared thoughtfully into the night sky. "Someone strong… intelligent… heroic… I wouldn't be adverse to that other Quidditch player seeking her company."

Ploutos covered his mouth with the back of his hand to muffle a derisive snort. "The one who can't properly transform?"

She silenced him with a glare. "With a little practice he could be quite a hero, like the ones of old."

"He'd need to slay more than a few hydras before he could even be mentioned in the same breath as the likes of Heracles."

Demeter sighed. "I know. You'd think that one hero would have emerged from the war, someone who fought on his own side and for no one else, like Achilles…"

"One did emerge, but you tried to kill him," Ploutos reminded her.

Demeter frowned. "Don't start."

"Then again, maybe Persephone has something else entirely in mind."

"I'd like to think that she'd opt for celibacy, but I fear that's unrealistic. She can try to bury herself in her work all she wants but she will always yearn for someone to share her heart. Perhaps the nymphs were right. Perhaps I did smother her too much. I raised her to feel that she'd be incomplete without someone by her side."

"Oh Mother, she was not smothered by you or anyone else. You raised her the best you could, as you did all of your children."

"Thank you, son," Demeter answered, head bowed. "I should've married her to Apollo when I had the chance."

"He would've cheated on her within the month."

"You're probably right," Demeter admitted. "You _are_ keeping an eye on the souls, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mother."

"And you could show me how to enter the underworld if need be."

"Of course I could, why?"

"I need a backup plan if I'm unable to find a worthy man on earth for my daughter."

"Oh no," Ploutos answered in horrified recognition of what she had in mind. "You aren't going to trust _her_ again."

"I doubt that will be necessary, but it is always good to have an alternate plan."

She leaned over and kissed Ploutos on the head. "I must go search the world for a suitable man, my dear. Please do keep an eye on the underworld and tell me if anything develops."

"I will," he promised.

"That's a good boy," she answered before disappearing.

"Goodbye, Mother," he answered as his lips contorted into a twisted frown.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, putting this on alert, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate it all!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Snape sipped Chardonnay and grimaced as some Jimi Hendrix wannabe assaulted his ears with an obnoxious out-of-tune riff. The Three Broomsticks was already filling up, but not with anyone he cared to speak to. The Malfoys were nowhere in sight. Scanning the crowd for signs of their host, Snape found him engaged in conversation… were they actually laughing together?... with Professor McGonagall. Snape scowled. He could interrupt their little tete-a-tete, but no, when he questioned the god, he wanted to be alone with him. Besides, Friedrich was really the weak link. Dionysus' followers were infamous for their lack of temperance. Drunken lips were loose lips.

Speaking of which, where _was_ Friedrich? With that ridiculous moustache, he should be easy to spot in a crowd…

Snape's eyes continued their inspection of the room until they came to rest on Hermione sitting at a table conversing animatedly with Ron. Well… at least half of the couple was conversing animatedly. Her eyes were bright with passion as she spoke… could she not see that Ron's were glazed with boredom? _The boy is way out of his league_, Snape thought as he watched the git drain his glass of red wine in a single gulp.

"Sensuality often makes love grow too quickly," a voice murmured over his right shoulder.

Snape turned and raised an inquisitive brow as the man continued, "So that the root remains weak and is easy to pull out."

"Friedrich?"

The man acknowledged the salutation as he set a tray of empty wine glasses on the bar next to Snape.

"I was just observing those two." Friedrich said, indicating Hermione and Ron. "They are an odd couple."

"They are touted as the Golden Couple, inevitably destined to live happily ever after."

"You sound less than sure about that."

"It makes no difference to me," Snape frowned. "My only fear is that the idiot boy will do something characteristically stupid and compromise her research. Or worse, cause her to lose focus and blow up the school."

"Hmmm… have you expressed those concerns to her?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Only _you_ know the answer to that question." Friedrich reached for his tray.

"Wait!"

Friedrich froze in place. "What?"

"Why are you _serving_ tonight? You're one of the hosts. Could you not find a house elf to ferry drinks?"

There was a hint of melancholy in Friedrich's eyes as his medallion flipped to comedy. "My work is to serve."

"You aren't a slave, are you? You should be able to enjoy your own party."

Smiling poignantly, Friedrich sighed. "Just being here is enough for me. I can reasonably ask for no more."

Snape was puzzled by his companion's remarks, but thought better of continuing the line of inquiry.

"You must be an aficionado of the theatre arts."

"I am," he replied as the medallion flipped to tragedy. "The plays of the ancient Greeks fascinate me. They knew they were destined to die, they believed that life had no point, and yet they loved life anyway. I admire their spirit."

Before Snape could reply, he was overcome by the scent of pomegranate. Such an exquisite smell…he fought to keep from grinning like a fool.

"Hello, Friedrich," Hermione came up from behind. "Could you help me get another glass of red? Ron's already finished his."

Friedrich frowned as his medallion flipped once more. "He's already had two glasses. He isn't even enjoying the taste anymore."

"I know," Hermione answered with a bit of an edge to her voice. Snape shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ignore that blasted scent. "But he's in a sour mood tonight."

"Shocking." Snape jibed.

Hermione darted a glare. "Please… a little compassion, Sir. This is his first real outing since his brother's death."

"I _am_ showing compassion. I am staying on this side of the room while he stays on the other side."

Hermione sighed in exasperation and turned back to Friedrich. "Would you like some help with the wine?"

"No—I'll get back to my cup-bearing duties. I should finish with the red before the white in the fountain runs out."

"I have been distracting Friedrich, I fear," Snape replied. "We were just discussing his medallion."

Hermione's eyes sparked in interest. "I've never seen anything quite like it. Where are you from, Friedrich?"

Friedrich weighed his words, then answered, "I believe you already know."

Giving them one last penetrating look, Friedrich picked up the tray of empty glasses and took them to the back room. Hermione stared blankly at the spot where he had stood. "Did I miss something? Has he ever told me where he was from?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't know."

"I've only seen him once before, the night of the staff dinner when he and his friend were haggling with Rosmerta. Did he say something then?"

"No," Snape frowned.

"Perhaps he confused me with someone else."

"Possibly," Snape answered. His eyes softened. "You're wearing perfume."

"Yes, it's pomegranate. A street vendor gave it to me that same night. Do you like it?"

"It suits you."

Hermione found herself drawn into the warmth of his gaze. Before she could recover enough to summon a response, Lucius glided up behind them. "Severus… I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find you in the darkest corner of the pub."

"This is the farthest I could get from that infernal band."

"They could stand to find a new guitarist," Hermione noted distractedly, drawing a startled glance from the Headmaster.

"Ms. Granger… I'm surprised to see you here with Severus. I would have thought the Weasley boy would be holding your attentions captive tonight."

"I was actually looking for some more red wine for him."

"Do tell," Lucius drawled. "Because I thought I just saw him cavorting in the white wine fountain with one of his brothers."

"What?" Hermione shrieked, her head whipping in the direction of the fountain.

Ron was standing with George beneath a veritable waterfall of Pinto Grigio, mouth wide open, swallowing greedily. "Oh Merlin," Hermione groaned. "He's making an arse of himself!"

A crowd was gathering around the spectacle. Dionysus was cheering them on. "The wine is free! Everyone jump in!"

Snape watched with sympathy as Hermione rushed to the fountain to retrieve her boyfriend from the free-flowing stream of spirits. Her timing was unfortunate. Just as she bent forward to grab the tail of Ron's shirt, the rest of the crowd decided to take Dionysus at his word. Splashes of white wine stained her shoes as the crowd ripped Ron from her grasp.

* * *

><p>"Ginevra," Draco purred as he approached the red-head.<p>

"Oh Merlin, not again," she groaned.

"I see that Potter is once again absent from your side."

"Here's your wine, Ginny." Harry handed her a glass as he slid into his seat.

"He was getting me a glass of wine. But thanks for your concern," Ginny responded dryly as she took Harry's hand possessively in hers.

Harry glared up at Draco. "Is there some particular reason you've been harassing my girlfriend?"

"I'm just trying to have a conversation. If you'd been cooped up in a house for over a month with only your parents to talk to, you might understand."

Draco averted his gaze uncomfortably when he realised the cause of Harry's stricken expression. "I'm sorry, Harry. I wasn't thinking."

"Harry, they had it!" Luna's triumphant voice broke the awkward pause.

Harry smiled. "They made you a Tahitian Dragon Sling?"

"Yes! It even came with a cute little dragon stirrer." Luna exclaimed as she sat down between Harry and Ginny, the dragon stir-stick occasionally leaning down to reset the drink on fire.

"That's great," Ginny answered with forced enthusiasm.

"Excuse me. Four is a crowd," Draco murmured as he rose to head over to the wine fountain.

"What was he doing here?" Luna asked.

"Being a nuisance," Ginny sighed.

"What else is new?" Harry added morosely.

"Let's not think about Draco," Luna suggested. "I read that the Americans recently found a wild Thestral near St. Louis."

"St. Louis?" Harry asked. "I didn't think American thestrals could live north of Memphis."

"Where are Memphis and St. Louis?" Ginny softly asked, but her voice went unheard.

"I know! It's so exciting!" Luna continued.

Ginny took a sip of her wine and tried to keep from clenching her teeth. When had she become a third wheel on her own date?

* * *

><p>"Lavender just walked in," Aphrodite whispered in the back room as she opened a tiny packet. "Eros told me that he saw her jump right into the fountain with Mr. Weasley."<p>

Friedrich nodded as Aphrodite poured the powder into the wine. "You know what to do?"

"Yes," Friedrich answered.

"Good. Keep this glass on the far left and make sure he drinks it."

Aphrodite turned and quietly exited the building to avoid detection. Friedrich stared down at the tray, his brow furrowed in thought. Having come to some sort of decision, he resolutely stepped out into the party. Snape was valiantly trying to carry on a conversation with Lucius while revellers shrieked in drunken laughter. Hermione still stood on the edge of the fountain, calling for Ron to come out while Ron ignored her pleas, choosing instead to dance with every girl who came his way. At the moment, that girl was Lavender Brown.

Friedrich swallowed, then made his way across the room.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all of the support. Sorry this is late, but the site's been acting up. Hopefully it's working now, but one never knows...**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

"Ron! Come out of that fountain right now!" Hermione shouted over the cacophony of music and drunken revelry.

"Why don't you come in?" Ron asked as he spun Lavender around. She laughed and kicked up the wine, causing it to splash onto the hem of Hermione's dress.

Hermione flushed as Lavender giggled in Ron's arms. "If you don't come out of that fountain this instant, I will never attend another Quidditch game as long as I live!" Her voice brooked no argument.

Ron groaned as he released Lavender. She reached for him, but he pushed her away. Stumbling towards Hermione, Ron slurred, "Hermione, must you always be such a killjoy?"

"I'm a representative of Hogwarts tonight. That requires a certain amount of decorum, as in not drinking too much and certainly not splashing around in a fountain like some overgrown child."

Ron glared at her. "You just don't like to dance with me."

Friedrich slipped closer, careful to remain unobtrusive. A lump formed in his throat at the sight of Hermione struggling to hold back tears as she tried in vain to reason with Ron.

Where was the fearsome goddess of the underworld he remembered?

"I like dancing with you just fine. Just not like this…"

"You're right. It's too crowded in there." Ron pulled her into his arms and engulfed her in a very wet, very alcoholic kiss. She pushed him away in disgust, causing him to fall back into the fountain. Dionysus laughed benevolently before leaning over to partake of the vintage, himself.

"What the hell is your problem?" Ron yelled.

"You're drunk, Ron. I can't talk to you when you're like this."

"Great! I don't want to talk, anyway!"

Staggering to his feet, he pulled her into his arms once again. Once again she shoved him back. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"I love you, but I'm tired of just talking to you!"

"What?"

Friedrich moved closer to listen in. Draco stood beside him, laughing. "Weasley is shitfaced."

Friedrich's eyes lit up in amusement as his medallion flipped to tragedy. "So he is."

"How you can love me but not want to talk to me?" Hermione demanded tearfully.

"Because what you talk about is boring! You think what I talk about is boring! We don't like talking to each other because we bore each other to tears!"

"That's not true! I like talking with you!" Hermione protested a bit too weakly to be believed. Ron was making more sense drunk than sober.

"I'm sick of words! I want to talk to you with my body!"

He lurched onto Hermione and gave her a slobbery kiss. She backed away, tears streaming from her eyes. "I can't do this."

"Come on, Hermione! I love you!"

Hermione turned and beat a hasty retreat into the ladies' room. Ron considered following her until he found himself surrounded by women coaxing him back into the fountain.

"In vino veritas," Friedrich murmured.

"Indeed," Draco smiled as he took a glass from Friedrich's tray, the one on the far left.

Friedrich walked away, suppressing a smirk as he attended to the other guests.

Draco took a long gulp of wine. When he paused to savour the taste, his gaze fell on Ginny standing across the room, eyes blazing, long silken hair a fiery halo about her perfect features. She was magnificent.

_Why am I thinking these thoughts?_ He wondered. Draco looked down at his glass.

_I've had too much wine_.

"Harry, you bastard!" Ginny shrieked as Friedrich strolled to the fountain to offer Ron another glass.

_Here we go_, Dionysus thought.

Ron downed the wine in one gulp while Dionysus watched with glee. Ron turned to Lavender and asked, "Do you think I should go comfort 'Mione?"

"Where? In the ladies' room?" Lavender giggled.

"Good point," Ron answered, shaking his head. "I feel horrible, though. I shouldn't have talked to her like that. She can be interesting sometimes."

"I'm interesting, too," Lavender cooed.

"You _are_ a good dancer," Ron admitted.

What's happening? Dionysus thought. He should be all over the girl. Why is he talking about Hermione?

For the first time all night, Dionysus frowned.

"It's not what it looks like!" Harry shouted, drawing the stares of several onlookers.

"Then what is it? Because I saw your lips on Luna Lovegood's! Can you explain that to me?" Ginny was livid. Luna nervously scooted her chair away from Harry's.

"I was… well… I was just trying to comfort her."

"Because Luna is the only one who was hurt by the war! I lost my brother, Harry! I was worried sick that I would lose _you_! Where is _my_ comfort? Where are _my_ kisses?"

"I've given you comfort! We've been dating, haven't we?"

"You tell me, Harry. You hardly have time for me any more and what you call kisses, I'd hardly call a peck on the cheek!"

"Ginny, you're making too much of this."

Luna watched in horror as the rage grew in Ginny's eyes. Slinking into the shadows, she joined Hermione in the ladies' room.

"You couldn't even be bothered to wait until I wasn't around! You…you're making a fool of me before the entire wizarding world!" Ginny shouted as Draco edged closer to her.

"Ginny, calm down!"

"What's going on?" Ron called from the fountain.

"Harry's cheating on me!" Ginny cried as hot tears streamed down her face.

Draco put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go."

Ginny batted at his hand. "Why should I leave with you?"

"Because you're causing a scene. You won't accomplish anything tonight by yelling at Potter."

"When did you suddenly care about Ginny?" Harry raged as his green eyes glowed with jealousy.

"You cheated on my sister?" Ron roared, slogging his way out of the fountain, dripping wine all over the floor.

"It's just a misunderstanding," Harry began.

Ron lunged for Harry, but was held back by a few of the more sober bystanders. Ron struggled against their grasp, but he was too drunk to free himself.

"Ginny, if you leave with me now you can still hold your head high. Sort everything out tomorrow; just get out of here now."

"Okay," she whispered, taking a fierce swipe at her eyes. "Th-thank you."

Draco put his arm around her shoulders as they exited the bar.

"I'm going to kill you, Harry! No one hurts my sister, you arse!"

"I said I was sorry! I love her!" Harry yelled.

Hermione crept along the edge of the shadows to stand beside Friedrich. Her green dress was soaked from the wine, but her face was free of tears, if still a little puffy. She watched Ron struggle and listened to Harry apologize and wondered in her confusion, "Wh- what's happening?"

Friedrich gave her a sympathetic smile. "A wise man once summed it up quite nicely: Ultimately one loves one's desires and not that which is desired."


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Thanks so much putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and for all your lovely reviews! I appreciate them all!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Dionysus spun idle circles with his finger to unravel the laurel from the chandelier and float it to the ground. Friedrich watched in uneasy silence, his medallion currently registering 'comedy'. He darted furtive glances at the god, but Dionysus paid him no heed, focusing instead on wrapping the fallen laurel into neat coils on the floor.

They both jumped when the door abruptly opened to admit Aphrodite, flashing a brilliant triumphant smile, with Eros tagging along behind. "How long did it take for the gingerhead to fly into Lavender's arms?" she asked.

"Ask Friedrich. He was supposed to give Ron the potion," Dionysus answered noncommittally, vanishing the laurel with a sharp snap of his fingers.

"What do you mean '_supposed_ to give him the potion'?" Eros asked.

"I gave you the powder," Aphrodite approached the cupbearer threateningly. "You saw me put it in the glass. Who did you give it to?"

Her eyes were aflame with fury, but Friedrich pulled himself to his full height and responded, "I let Draco Malfoy take the glass. He drank the love potion."

"What?" Aphrodite shrieked.

"How could you?" Eros demanded, flushing a bright shade of puce.

"If Persephone chooses the red-headed git over Hades, then she does not deserve him."

"Of course! That was the whole point of the exercise!" Eros argued. "Why didn't you cooperate with us?"

"Because she should have been able to see that for herself last night. She was standing at the edge of the fountain pleading with Ron to come out. When he finally did, he started pawing at her like some animal. She was humiliated."

"And you didn't try to stop him?" Aphrodite spat.

"I did not need to. She ran to the ladies' room."

"That does not excuse your defiance," Aphrodite argued.

"Persephone is not some Muggle-born witch; she is a goddess, and not just any goddess. She is the _dread_ Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, and the only woman who can strike fear and respect into the heart of every soul. We can dose Ron with every love potion in the book, but that will get us no closer to our goal of reuniting Hades and Persephone. Until she reclaims her role as someone worthy of respect, Persephone will never be ready to love Hades or anyone else, for that matter."

Friedrich's eyes were aflame with passion as he continued, "And what kind of victory would Hades have achieved if I'd given the ginger git the potion? Persephone would have chosen him not of her own free will, but because she was settling on what was more obtainable. Such a cheap victory is unworthy of him. Punish me if you must, but in your hearts you do not disagree with me."

The others fell silent as Friedrich's words echoed in their thoughts. Perhaps their original plan had been ill-advised. Finally, Dionysus spoke up. "Your reasoning is sound, Friedrich. I remember how terrifying Hades and Persephone were when I pleaded with them for my mother and later on, Ariadne. They nearly made me forget that I, too, was a god. Hades still appears to hold himself with the bearing of a king who cares little for anyone, but Persephone acts as she did back when Demeter had kept her secluded. She doesn't seem to realize her power or her worth. As a result, I suppose I forgot for a moment just who she was."

"It is easier for me to remember," Friedrich admitted. "I was one of those they judged."

"They judged you?" Aphrodite asked with interest.

"Yes," Friedrich answered. "The Beyond sent me to them."

"You…you've seen the Beyond?" Eros asked in a reverent voice.

"I have," Friedrich answered.

"What was it like?" Eros asked.

"Bright. I was not there long, but I remember a winged man with a deep, smooth voice and an accent similar to these British wizards telling me that I was not his to judge. The next thing I knew, I was in Hades' throne room. That is all I can say about the experience." Friedrich's voice trailed off as he relived the memory.

"In any case," Aphrodite sighed, "Ron did not take the love potion."

"Yes," Eros' wings flicked, fluttered, and fluffed, "But Draco Malfoy _did_. I've been trying to persuade Draco to test the waters of love for quite some time now. Who did he see when he took it?"

"Ginevra Weasley."

"Good," Eros smiled in deep satisfaction.

"Good?" Aphrodite questioned. "Ginevra Weasley is hopelessly infatuated with Harry Potter. She was going to be his ticket to a loving family. How could destroying that relationship be a good thing?"

"She has red hair and a fiery spirit, just like his mother. Does the name Oedipus ring a bell?"

Aphrodite shook her head wryly. "It took years to clean up that messy affair. We certainly do not need another incident like that again."

"Indeed," Eros responded before turning to Friedrich. "Do you think she will remain with the red-haired git after tonight?"

"If I were she, I would never see him again, but I do not think as women do."

"Obviously," Aphrodite answered. "Well, there is always tomorrow. Surely there will arise yet another opportunity to draw Hades and Persephone closer together."

"Or my name isn't Eros," Aphrodite's son grinned.

"If you need any assistance, you can count on us," Dionysus answered with a sharp look in Friedrich's direction.

"As long as Persephone is allowed to confront the truth and choose for herself," Friedrich answered. "The question is: how much truth can a spirit bear, how much truth can a spirit dare?"

"You have a way with words, Friedrich," Eros chuckled as he snapped his fingers to vanish all signs of the party from sight. With another snap of the fingers, the gods disappeared, as well. It was as if they had never been there.

* * *

><p>The shrill, mirthless laughter left Hermione's ears ringing painfully. She glared at its source, a woman with fiery red hair and an ugly, twisted smile.<p>

"What kind of woman do you believe yourself to be?" She taunted. "You cannot keep a man like him happy, you pathetic little child!"

Hermione turned to see the dark man from her dreams, his face still shielded from her gaze. She ached to reach out to him… to ask him to step out of the shadows and reveal himself to her.

"He is mine," the vicious crone jeered. "He will _always_ be mine. He gave his heart to me when he was a boy and I will have it for all eternity."

Hermione turned once again to the man in the shadows, seeking confirmation of the awful words. She felt a gentle probing into her thoughts… not words, exactly, but feelings that transcended speech. She could begin to sense things about him… great strength… courage… It was if he was wordlessly projecting to her the most elemental components of his very being. She nearly stumbled under the force of the love she sensed, but it was not the devoted love her tormentor had led her to envision. It was a complicated love combined with an overwhelming sadness. There was no joy... It was as if he was a prisoner… a prisoner!

Sudden rage surged through her bones, exploding from her fingers, her toes, even her hair, in blinding shafts of radiant blue light. An angry scream silenced the woman's maniacal laughter; it took several moments for Hermione to recognize it as her own.

Spent, and breathing as if she had just run from the dungeons to the Astronomy tower, Hermione watched bonelessly as the blue light faded. A fragrant plant stood where the woman had taunted her moments before. She knew that smell... mint.

Hermione sat up in bed with a gasp, soaked in perspiration. It took her a moment to reassure herself that she was no longer in an open field, but in her own bedroom, and that it had been a dream, not reality. The biting stench of mint still churned her stomach.

The same dream had haunted Hermione for years, usually when she went to bed angry… more often than not, angry with Ron. Few of her dreams were ever so vivid. It was almost more like a repressed memory than a flight of subconscious fancy.

She needed a moment to ground herself again. With a flick of her fingers, she opened the curtains to expose the moon. A small group of bats fluttered across its glow, silently oblivious to her distress. The stillness of the night calmed her as long as she stayed awake to appreciate it, but every time she closed her eyes her peace was disturbed by the horrible laughter and that nauseating smell.

After several unsuccessful attempts at slumber, Hermione sighed in resignation and cast a quiet _Lumos_. She walked to her bookshelf, careful not to disturb Crookshanks, tightly curled in a chair across the room. Scanning the titles, one book caused her stomach to lurch: _Secrets of the Darkest Art_.

She knew she needed to return it to Hogwarts, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. At first she had kept the book to research Horcruxes, but after it had fulfilled that purpose, she told herself she was keeping it to protect others from its influence. If she was honest with herself, though, she was really keeping the book because it fascinated her. It intrigued her. Something within the book called out to her, as if it held something promising just for her.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the book and selected her well-thumbed copy of _Hogwarts: A History._ It did not matter if she'd read it a hundred times; it was familiar… comforting. Right now, comforting was what she needed.

* * *

><p>The woman with the brown hair completed her dance with a graceful pirouette ending in a bow. She was facing Snape's direction, but her face was obscured by shadow. He ached to reach out to her… to ask her to step out of the shadows and reveal herself to him. She cocked her head, as if processing his unspoken request, then took one tentative step forward.<p>

The tap of an owl at the window shattered the spell, sending the woman with the brown hair back into the shadows and propelling Snape forward into another long day.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all the support. Thanks also to Marianne Le Fey and Heartmom88 for their help. Unfortunately, I got so bogged down with final papers that I forgot to send this to Marianne to Britpick. I thought about sending it to her, but I really didn't want to skip a day posting, especially since I don't post everyday anymore. So if you see any errors, those are all my fault and I apologize. **

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Snape read the document for the third time, trying to discern just exactly what had gone wrong. The painter had produced the replacement portrait precisely to specification, but upon completion, no amount of magic had been able to bring it to life. The Headmaster simply stared out from the canvas: unmoving, unspeaking, and unready to be hung at Hogwarts. Snape wondered if the dark magic that had destroyed the former portrait had somehow hindered its replacement, but the artist assured him that should not have been the case. Perhaps they needed to try a different spell… Perhaps they needed to try a different artist…

Just as Snape pulled out a sheet of parchment to formulate a response, he heard a soft tap on the door. He looked up to see who had finally dragged themselves into the land of the living after last night's drunken debacle, most likely with the aid of a healthy dose of Sober-Up. "Enter."

The visitor flinched and squinted in the light from the castle window as he stuck his head around the opened door.

"Potter?"

"I took a chance that you might be in your office," Harry began in a sleep-roughened voice. He looked like hell with his bloodshot eyes and his impossibly tousled hair. Even his robes were disheveled, as though hastily thrown on after spending the night in a heap on the floor. "I don't know who else to talk to."

"What seems to be the matter?" Snape asked as Harry gingerly closed the door, wincing at the click it produced.

"It's about last night." Harry stepped inside and eased himself into the chair across from Snape's desk. "I…I suppose you saw the confrontation I had with Ginny."

"To be honest, Potter, all I saw was the expression on Lucius' face when Draco escorted Miss Weasley to the door… and I presume, home. Suffice it to say that Lucius was less than pleased.

"I wish Draco… and I suppose by extension, Lucius… was my only problem."

"What _is_ the problem then, Potter?" Snape asked, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the subject matter.

"Ginny. I tried sending her a Patronus last night, but she wouldn't respond. It would be one thing if she'd sent me a Howler or even just a quick note saying she'd discuss it with me when she'd had a chance to cool down, but I don't even know if she got my message."

"Potter, I am the _last_ person who should give advice on lovers' spats. I can't even imagine why you would think to share this information with me. If you want to reconcile with Miss Weasley…"

"But that's the thing," Harry interrupted. "I'm not sure I do."

Snape leaned back in his chair in resignation and closed his eyes to prepare his mind for the onslaught.

Potter took a deep breath. "After the fifth Patronus… don't say it... I know… I started thinking. There was a reason I kissed Luna, and it wasn't the alcohol. Luna and I can talk for hours about anything and I feel happy when I'm with her."

"O Merlin, Potter, please spare me the details," Snape shuddered, palms up as if to halt the words before they reached his ears. With uncharacteristic compassion, his voice softened. "You seemed to be happy with Miss Weasley, at least in the photos that made it into the papers."

"I _was _happy with Ginny… but I'm starting to wonder if I stayed with her because she was safe."

"Safe?"

"Sometimes…" Harry bowed his head to collect his thoughts. "The Weasleys have been the only real family I've ever known and I guess I got caught up in the fantasy that one day I'd be an official member. I wonder if that's the real reason I've been dating Ginny… I've been telling myself that I love her… but maybe I always just assumed I'd become a member of her family… and marrying her was the easiest way to do that. I wonder if I've really just been using her as a way to obtain the family I never had." He sighed. "Merlin, that sounds horrible… But does that make sense?"

"In a mind-numbing way, I suppose it does," Snape replied.

Harry smiled ruefully at the jibe, then continued, "Ginny seemed like such a natural choice. I love her family, and I've known her since she was ten… I saved her." Harry's eyes became distant. "I saved her and she fell in love with me."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Snape asked.

"Sometimes it feels like she loves the hero who rescued her and not the ordinary person I really am. I think she wants someone strong to protect her… some romantic hero to adore her. I can be those things, but I'm also flawed. My temper rivals hers, and I don't always think things through before I act. We don't balance each other out well at all."

"We all have flaws, Potter. Why is Miss Lovegood any different? You saved her, as well, and she sees you as a hero."

"She also understands what it means to lose a parent. Luna watched her mother die and her father could be in Azkaban in a month's time. The absence of my parents is a large part of who I am. Luna understands that; Ginny doesn't."

"So you chose to reward that understanding with a… kiss." Snape concluded

"I didn't see Luna the rest of the night. She snuck out the back. I wonder if she'll even speak to me again," Harry sighed.

"She may have no choice, given your assistance with her father's case. But where does that leave Miss Weasley?"

"I don't know," Harry scrubbed his face in frustration. "I thought maybe talking this through with you would give me a little clarity on the issue."

"You picked an odd adviser, Mr. Potter."

"I know," Harry grinned. "But you're one of the few people still speaking to me this morning… and you have no interest at all in the outcome."

"That's an understatement." Snape smirked. "But if there's one thing this war has taught me, Mr. Potter, it's that life is too short to live it exclusively to fulfill the expectations of others. At some point, Harry, you need to live your own life. If that life includes Miss Lovegood, then so be it. No one has the right to dictate otherwise."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry replied, visibly relieved. "You've given me a lot to think about. I'll begin setting things right today."

Harry's eyes trailed to the document on Snape's desk. "How is the Headmaster's portrait progressing?"

"Not well," Snape replied. "Dumbledore won't come to life."

"What?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Why?"

"We aren't sure. I'm considering hiring another artist."

"It wouldn't be Hogwarts without Albus Dumbledore..."

"Indeed," Snape answered flatly. Harry hadn't witnessed Albus at his worst and Snape had no intention of setting the record straight now. Some things were better left in the grave.

Another knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Headmaster Snape?"

"Miss Granger…" Snape turned towards Harry with a questioning glance, only to be answered with a shrug. "What brings you here this morning?"

"Research," Hermione answered. "I wondered if you might grant me access to the restricted section this morning."

"Wouldn't Minerva be able to do that?"

"Well… yes… but I won't be working on her project today. I need to do some reading for an independent project of my own."

"What are you researching that would take you into the restricted section?"

"Healing spells for black curses, Sir," she answered with an uncomfortable sidelong glance to Harry. "I'm still in the preliminary process of gathering information. Would you like me to brief you with my progress?"

"I think that would be wise, Miss Granger," Snape answered. "They call it 'restricted' for a reason. I'll see to it that you have access to the books you need."

"Thank you, Sir" she replied.

"How are you doing this morning, Hermione?" Harry asked.

She shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose… a bit surprised to find _you_ here."

"I needed to talk to someone and do a bit of thinking."

Hermione shot a questioning glance at Snape, who rolled his eyes. Stifling a grin, Hermione returned her attention to her friend.

"My behaviour last night was…."

"I don't think many people are happy with their behaviour last night, Harry."

"You…you heard about Luna?"

"Yes, I heard about the kiss," Hermione replied before giving him a smile meant to be reassuring. "It's a small alcohol-induced bump in the road. I'm sure you and Ginny will work things out."

"Sure," Harry muttered into the carpet. Raising his head and forcing a smile, he excused himself. "I guess I'd better get to it, then."

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione grinned. "I suppose I should go, too, and start in on that research."

As the door closed behind their good-byes, Snape paused to reflect on the strange events of the past few days: A mysterious, but somehow familiar pair of strangers show up at the Leaky Cauldron to throw a party for the key players in the Wizarding War. The purpose? To render most all of them temporarily insane for the evening? To cause chaos, most of which seemed to center around romantic entanglements? Who was toying with them and for what reason? And why was he _still_ smelling pomegranate?

His only consolation was that the alleged Persephone had been no where to be seen. At least _he_ had been untouched by the madness.

Snape picked up the document once more. He might have to take a trip to the restricted section, himself, to see what could possibly be keeping Dumbledore from returning to Hogwarts.


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all of the support!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Ginny smoothed the skirt of her dress as she anxiously glanced about the room. Forcing herself to take a few deep, slow breaths, she leaned back in her chair, struggling to control the emotions threatening to explode within her. Part of her would have preferred to have put this conversation off a few days, but really, what did she expect to accomplish in that short amount of time? The pain would still permeate her every conscious moment, the questions would continue to swirl in her head, and all of her pent-up emotions would still threaten to erupt the moment she heard…

"Hello, Ginny."

"Harry," Ginny answered softly with all the self-control she could muster. "You actually showed up on time."

Harry gave her a weak smile. "This café is only a few blocks from my house."

"You walked?" her voice registered her surprise.

"Walking clears my head," he answered, sitting down across from her. "Helps me keep my emotions in check."

"I see," Ginny bowed her head.

Silence fell between them. "Ginny, I'm sorry," Harry began, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry about the humiliation I put you through. I shouldn't have disrespected you like that, especially in public."

"You cheated on me," Ginny choked. "You kissed one of my closest friends in front of everyone who is important to me. How could you do that, Harry?"

"Because I was stupid," Harry answered. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I never would've done that to you if I had been."

She swallowed as her eyes hardened. "Forgive me if I'm not quite ready to jump back into your arms."

"I don't know if that would be such a good idea, anyway."

His words hit her like a blow to the gut. "What do you mean, Harry?"

Harry exhaled shakily. "Ginny, I think we'd be better off as friends. I have fun with you, and I enjoy being around you…"

Harry paused, as though choosing his words carefully.

"…But there's something missing," Ginny finished the thought for him.

"Yes," Harry whispered.

"I guess I can't say I didn't expect this," Ginny answered, dragging a palm across her tears.

"Ginny, please don't cry. None of this is your fault."

"Yes it is," Ginny answered. "Well, at least part of it is."

"Ginny don't beat yourself up…"

Ginny raised her hand to silence him as she wiped her face again. "No… Draco and I talked about this on the way to my house last night."

"You talked to Draco about us?" Harry asked with more than a hint of irritation.

She nodded. "He was willing to listen, and it wasn't like he hadn't just seen what had happened."

"I suppose so," Harry sighed.

"He wanted to know why I had waited around so long for you-what the attraction was. I told him how brave you were and recited everything you'd done for me… and he asked me if I was making a declaration of love or reciting a resume.

At first I was cross with him, but when I was alone in my room I realized that he was right. I was attracted to you because you were the Boy-Who-Lived, and that attraction only deepened when you saved me from the Basilisk. You were the boy who would win the Triwizard Tournament, the boy who would defeat the Dark Lord, and you were the boy who would save me whenever I needed you. It was all like a fairy tale."

"Ginny, you had to know that I was just a regular guy like Ron or Neville or anyone else,"

"In my mind I knew that, but my heart had this heroic fantasy of you. I never really recovered from my childhood crush, I guess. Last night shattered that illusion. You weren't a hero whisking me away and saving my honour anymore."

"Draco was," Harry answered softly.

"Please, don't drag him into this."

"Fine."

"For years I've been obsessed with you, but I can't allow my life to revolve around you anymore. I need to move on." Ginny sniffed inelegantly and searched in her purse for a tissue.

"I just wish things hadn't ended this way," Harry sighed.

"Better to end it now before we get any more involved with each other… Better now than twenty years down the road when we'd have kids and a home to consider."

"Ginny, I still care for you."

"I'll always care for you, Harry, and I'm glad you'll always be my brother's friend."

"Am I still your brother's friend?"

"He's calmer today. Give him a week or so to see that I'm OK and he'll forgive you. I'll tell him it was all for the best. We wouldn't have worked out," Ginny answered.

Harry gave her a small smile. "I'll always care for you."

"I know," she whispered. "Please don't be offended, though, if I don't want to see you anytime soon. Knowing that we wouldn't have worked out doesn't make it hurt any less."

"It hurts me, too, Ginny. It's all going to take some getting used to." Harry stood up to leave and extended his hand. "Would you like me to walk you home?"

"No," Ginny inhaled slowly. "I want to stay here for a bit… enjoy a nice cup of tea… do some thinking."

"All right, then." Harry let his hand drop to his side. "Well… Goodbye, Ginny."

"Goodbye," Ginny whispered.

Harry turned and slowly walked out of the cafe. Ginny stifled a sob and closed her eyes against her threatening tears. A few calming breaths later, she pulled her wand, recalled a happier time, and produced a wispy Patronus. Taking a shaky breath, she began, "Remember when you told me last night that if I needed someone to talk to, you'd listen? Well, I'd like to take you up on that offer. I'm at the café on Woodcroft Street."

* * *

><p>Crookshanks glared balefully at Ron, then lapped at the water in his bowl. "If I knew where your food was, I'd give you some," Ron apologized.<p>

The half-cat did not seem impressed, instead choosing to slink away from the intruder. "I know Hermione is upset with me, but I'm going to try to make it better."

_Does that mean you're leaving?_ Crookshanks wondered.

The click of the door broke Crookshank's glare. "Hermione!" Ron called.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, her eyes widened in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

_My question, exactly_, Crookshanks growled. He then strolled over to Hermione and proceeded to rub against her legs.

"I needed to talk," Ron began as he stepped toward her.

Crookshanks hissed as Hermione's eyes lowered. "I'm not interested in talking."

"Hermione, I'm sorry about last night!"

"Good. You should be," Hermione replied as she loudly dropped her books on the table. "I hope you have a monster of a hangover, as well."

"Trust me, I do," Ron winced.

"Excellent," Hermione grinned to herself.

"It's nothing, though, compared to the regret I have over what happened between us."

"You demeaned me in front of everyone I cared about in Wizarding Britain! My co-workers were there! My Headmaster was there! They all had the dubious honour of a front row seat to your antics and my humiliation. I think I can safely say that last night was one of the most mortifying experiences of my life!"

"I know." Ron bowed his head. "I wish I could explain what happened."

"You were a drunken git! What more is there to explain?"

"I was happy for the first time since the War ended and I wanted that feeling to last forever! It was almost like the war had never happened! I could feel Fred's spirit with me and I just wanted to celebrate life instead of thinking about death!"

"Celebrating life doesn't usually involve dancing in a fountain of wine with every girl you see!"

"You could've joined me. Would it kill you to loosen up once in a while?"

"I was trying to be professional! Can you imagine what Headmaster Snape would've thought if I'd joined you?"

"He might have thought 'nice legs'…" Ron sighed. "…before he would've berated you and made you regret ever returning to Hogwarts."

"Exactly!" Hermione exhaled.

"I knew all that and I just threw it out the window because I was being a selfish git."

"Yes, you were."

"But I'm a selfish git who loves you!"

"It sure didn't look like that last night."

"I know," Ron groaned as he approached Hermione once more, only to jump back in alarm at another especially sibilant hiss from Crookshanks. "But I can't live without you, Hermione. I have never needed another woman the way I need you."

"What are you looking for, Ron? A lover or a mother?"

"You've got it all wrong." Ron shook his head in frustration. "I love all of you: your mind, your personality… We just fit, you know? … and I can't imagine a life without you in it. Hermione, if I could I would marry you here and now. I want children with you, I want to grow old with you. I want to be there for you when you make your magical breakthroughs. I want to be there when you're teaching our children at Hogwarts."

Hermione's stomach sank. "You really have it all planned out."

"I do because I dream about us, Hermione. I want us to be together forever."

He advanced once again. Crookshanks growled, but this time Hermione pushed him aside with her hand. The half-kneazle gave her a look of indignation, but haughtily strutted out of the room, anyway. He'd be around when the git messed up again.

"I love you," Ron crooned.

"I love you too," Hermione replied stiffly as she let him fold her into an embrace.

Ron leaned in to press his lips against hers. Hermione reluctantly returned the kiss, but made no attempt to deepen it. She finally backed away. "It's late, and I'm very tired."

"I can make you dinner."

"You can't even fry eggs, Ron," Hermione answered with a smile.

"I know, but let me try."

"No, I think I'm going to eat and then go to bed."

"I could help you with that, too," Ron grinned with a sparkle in his eyes.

Hermione laughed. "Thanks, but I'm fine."

She pecked him on the lips once more. "I love you."

"Love you too, 'Mione."

Ron left with a huge smile on his face. Hermione's smile faded behind the closed door. Her gaze fell on the stack of books on her table. Ron's dreams for them were beautiful. If only she could assure him they were attainable…


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all the support. Thanks also to Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Fey for all their help!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

"I don't know why Harry asked us here," Ron began irritably. Hermione rubbed slow comforting circles on the back of his hand with her thumb while he glared down into his coffee cup. "He could've at least met us at a place that served real food."

"He was probably just looking for a place near work," Hermione answered.

"Couldn't he have asked us over to the house?"

Hermione stopped rubbing his hand and frowned. "The last time Harry saw you, you were threatening to beat him to a pulp."

Ron sighed and looked up at her. "I probably should've apologised for that when he flooed to ask us to meet him."

"Probably," Hermione answered. "But then again, he seemed pretty distracted when he flooed us."

"That, he did."

"Do you think he wants to talk about Ginny?"

"I don't know," Ron answered. "I haven't seen Ginny all day. She's been holed up in her room. Really hasn't wanted to talk to me."

"I suppose Harry may need our help, then," Hermione exhaled. "Not that we don't owe him after all the problems he's mediated for us."

Ron gave her a peck on the cheek. "At least we always worked them out."

"Hmmm," Hermione responded as the bell on the door jingled, announcing Harry's arrival.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," Harry apologised as he crossed the room to claim a seat at the table.

"No," Hermione answered. "I had a cup of tea and Ron had some coffee, although I think he was hoping for a bite to eat."

"Not much on the menu besides biscuits," Ron complained.

"Sorry about that."

Before Harry could add anything else, Ron interrupted. "Say, Harry… I'm really sorry about the other night, Mate. I shouldn't have tried to hit you."

"I deserved it," Harry replied ruefully.

"Have you spoken to Ginny?" Ron asked.

"We broke up."

Hermione and Ron gave him identical blank stares.

"That's what I called you two here for. I thought I should break it to you in person. I didn't know if Ginny already told you, Ron…."

"No, she didn't. I think she's been avoiding me all day."

"Do you want us to talk to Ginny for you?" Hermione asked gently.

"No, our break up was mutual."

"Mutual?" Ron asked as the blood drained from his face. "Ginny loves you! She's not a quitter. She fights for those she loves!"

"Ginny and I aren't right for each other, Ron. We can at least agree on that."

Ron flushed an alarming shade of red. "So you're leaving her for Luna?"

"Luna and I are just friends."

"Friends don't snog in public."

"Ron," Hermione placed a warning hand on his. "Let's hear Harry out."

Ron turned to Hermione and glared. "What's to hear? He broke my sister's heart! You're Ginny's friend! Why aren't you more upset?"

"I am upset," Hermione answered in a low voice. "But Harry is my friend, too. He's like a brother to me, and he had the courage to tell us what happened between him and Ginny. I'd like to hear him out."

"Thank you," Harry cut in. "I never intended to hurt Ginny. Things just got crazy after the war."

"Did you love her?" Ron asked.

"As a sister and a close friend, yes. But that can only take us so far."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that we both want more in a relationship," Harry replied. "Even if it means we have to find it in someone else. I'm sorry that I hurt her, Ron. Your family means the world to me. I'd never intentionally hurt any of you."

"But you did," Ron challenged.

"Ron, things couldn't help but change after that kiss. Ginny and I were never going to have the same relationship we had before. It seemed better to walk away friends than to try to work on something we'd both outgrown."

"At least you left it before things got too intense," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Are you on his side?" Ron snapped.

"I want what's best for everyone, Ron," Hermione said evenly.

Ron glowered back at her.

"Would you two please stop?" Harry interrupted. "I wanted to tell you so you wouldn't be caught by surprise, not so I could watch you two fight about it. This isn't about you; it's about Ginny and me."

"It's going to take Ginny a while to get over this."

"Oh I don't know, Ron… She's resilient," Hermione answered. "Every girl gets her heart broken by some dunderhead at some point in her life. That just challenges her to make him regret the day he ever let her go."

Ron gave her a half smile. "It's going to take some time for me to adjust to the idea, too... I'd always kind of hoped we'd be brothers, Harry."

"I know," Harry answered. "I suppose I'll just have to settle for being a godfather to your first child."

"There's a thought." Ron flashed a smile.

Harry saw a flicker of something… regret?... in Hermione's expression. The moment passed quickly, but he resolved to ask her about it later.

Ron continued, "The Cannons almost won yesterday."

Harry sat back down. "Really?"

_Oh joy… Here we go again_, Hermione thought as she took another sip of tea.

* * *

><p>"Severus?"<p>

Snape glanced up from his book and unconsciously shifted in his reading chair. "What brings you here, Lucius?"

"Draco's welfare."

Snape set down the book and sighed. "What has the boy got himself into this time?"

"Ginevra Weasley."

Snape quirked an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

Lucius slowly inhaled. "When Draco left the party with Ginevra I was livid, as you well know. When I returned home, Draco told me that it was just a ploy to upset Potter. I foolishly believed him until yesterday evening when he received an odd Patronus… a horse. Concerned that it might be a trap, I followed him to a café where Miss. Weasley was seated at a table. It took her no time at all to fall into his arms and start crying on his shoulder." Lucius shuddered. "It was bad enough that she had such little self-control, but to allow himself to be dragged into that emotional display…what was Draco thinking?"

"Apparently he has succumbed to young Miss Weasley's charms," Snape answered.

"But why? He had a girlfriend before the war ended, a perfectly nice Slytherin. Why doesn't he try to reconcile with her?"

"Lucius, are you sure of Draco's intentions? Befriending the daughter of a prominent Ministry official would appear to be a good step in restoring the family reputation."

"I might think that of him if I hadn't seen the look in his eyes when he returned home. I haven't seen him smile like that in a very long time."

Snape shook his head. "Draco never was one to hide his emotions. Still, I think you could work an opportunity like this to your advantage. Miss Weasley is considered a war hero and her connections are impeccable. Even a mere friendship with her could greatly increase Draco's social standing."

"But at what price?" Lucius demanded. "The girl's family is not prosperous by any stretch of the imagination. She cannot help but one day be tempted by the enormous wealth Draco stands to inherit. Then there's the issue of her relationship with Potter. My son's rivalry with Potter is well-known and as such, he would be the perfect person to help her irritate the boy. What happens to Draco when Potter and she resolve whatever issue they are having?"

"Do you really believe Draco would allow Miss Weasley to use him?"

"I would hope not, but then, he's trotting around with a big smile on his face and letting women cry on his shoulder in public. He's not exactly in a thinking frame of mind."

"Have you expressed your concerns to him?"

"He wouldn't appreciate knowing that I followed him. Besides, I am fearful that if I oppose his seeing Ms. Weasley, she will become all the more alluring to him."

"Fair enough," Snape conceded.

"Draco has been wanting to spend some time with you, now that you're out of the hospital. Perhaps you could come over sometime tomorrow and speak with him."

"Wouldn't that appear suspicious?"

"You're a longtime family friend. Why shouldn't you come for a visit?"

Snape sighed. "I suppose I could find a way to broach the subject of Miss Weasley, but I cannot make any promises."

Lucius smiled. "I think you've made enough promises to this family to last a lifetime, Severus. Your best effort will be good enough."

"What time would you like me to arrive?" Severus asked, resigned to the task.


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting,** **reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all the support! It really keeps me going with this story.  
><strong>

** I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

"Headmaster Snape! Please wait!"

Severus turned and scowled as floo powder sifted through his fingers. "Miss Granger, haven't you been released for the day?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "But before I left, I was wondering if I could have access to the library again… perhaps take a few books home."

"What sort of books?"

"Just a few reference books for my independent research," she answered evasively.

Snape frowned. "If I did not have an appointment right now, I would question you further on this so-called independent research. As it is, though, I am already late." He tossed the floo powder into the fireplace, causing it to erupt in green flame. "Leave a list of the books you take for Minerva so she can properly catalogue them."

"Could you use some extra help cataloguing the library?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining with interest. "I'd love to help."

"We can discuss it at the next staff meeting."

"Thank you," she answered.

He nodded curtly before stepping into the flames. "Malfoy Manor."

Hermione shivered as Snape disappeared from sight. The mention of Malfoy Manor had briefly transported her to a place and time she'd rather forget. Bellatrix' grotesque screams of delight echoed in Hermione's ears. She swallowed as she relived the memory of the insane witch focusing showers of green and gold magic on her abdomen while she writhed in agony. A wave of nausea swept through her.

"Cicatrix infructuosus," Hermione whispered.

* * *

><p>"Severus," Narcissa smiled as Snape dusted ash from his robes. "How are you?"<p>

"Very well, thank you," Snape answered as he looked up at the witch. She was much thinner than he remembered, with dark circles around her eyes not quite hidden by the subtle glamour spell she wore. No doubt the stress of her imprisonment coupled with her recent illness had taken its toll. Still, she managed to exude a regal air few others could equal.

"Lucius mentioned that you had fallen ill."

"It was just a little cold," Narcissa responded. "Nothing like a snake bite." Her eyes became misty. "I honestly thought we had lost you."

"It is over, Narcissa."

She glided over to embrace him. "I am just happy you are alive. The thought of never seeing you again was almost too much to bear."

He returned the embrace and felt a bit of moisture seep onto his shoulder where Narcissa's cheek lay. "I am happy to be here, too."

"Uncle Severus?"

Severus released Narcissa and turned to find his godson standing in the doorway.

"Hello, Draco."

Draco choked, "Father said you were coming today." He took a shaky breath. "I…I'm sorry that I didn't visit you in the hospital. I would have, but Father said you were so close to recovery, and Mother needed someone to stay with her. Then you were released..." Draco stared at the scar on Snape's neck and gave an involuntary shudder. "How did you survive?"

"Miss Granger probably understands that better than I do."

"Well thank Merlin, then, for Miss Granger," Narcissa answered with a quick smile. "Would either of you care for tea?"

"No thank you, I am fine," Snape replied.

"Me too," Draco answered.

"I will let you two catch up, then." Narcissa excused herself, then slipped out the door.

Draco stared at Snape as if he couldn't quite believe he was real. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he said, "Father is in his study. I can get him…"

"I came here to speak with you, actually," Snape replied before indicating two ornate chairs near the fireplace. "Shall we sit down?"

"Of course. You're still recovering…"

"Actually, my energy is nearly restored, but thank you for your concern." Snape suppressed a grin as he moved toward one of the chairs.

"I thought it took much longer than that to recover from a coma."

"Apparently I did not have the muscle atrophy commonly associated with comas."

"What in Merlin's name did Granger do?" Draco asked as he sat down. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"I don't know. You'd have to ask her."

"Maybe later…" Draco bowed his head. Taking a few moments to collect himself, he finally looked Snape in the eyes and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for everything. I didn't deserve any of it. I didn't deserve anything you've done for me, especially in light of how I've acted these past few years."

"Draco, I chose to protect you."

"But I was horrible to you!" he exclaimed. "I was so angry because I thought you'd betrayed my father! When you tried to help me I just turned you away! Even at the time I knew you didn't deserve to be treated the way I treated you!"

"You were upset about what had happened with your father. It's understandable."

"But not forgivable," Draco answered.

Snape put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "On the contrary, Draco. I've forgiven you; now you must forgive yourself. Yes, you were a dunderhead during your sixth year." Draco gave him a rueful smile. "But I am your godfather. I care for you unconditionally, even when you are a dunderhead."

"I just wish I'd listened to you. I almost went to Azkaban."

"But you didn't. Be grateful for that."

"I suppose," Draco sighed. "I just wish I could make it up to you."

"Live your life, be happy, and do not follow any of the Dark Lord's teachings. That's all I've ever wanted for you."

"I will," Draco promised.

"That's it, then."

Silence fell between them. Finally, Draco screwed up the courage to ask, "Did you really love Harry Potter's mother, or did Potter and Granger make that up so you'd be exonerated and get your old position back?"

"They did not lie about my involvement with Lily Evans," Snape answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Draco's expression was indecipherable. "Why didn't you just move on? You held on to her memory for over twenty years."

"Draco, I fail to see how this is any of your business."

"I suppose it isn't really… but… let's just say I may need to know for the future."

"What future benefit could the details of my love life possibly hold for you?"

"Because I don't want to fall in love with a woman who only has eyes for a Potter."

Snape smirked to himself, surprised that the boy had brought it up on his own. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"I don't know," Draco answered. Finally, he exhaled and shook his head. "You saw me escort Ginevra Weasley out of that party a few nights ago."

"Yes."

"Well, she's more interesting than I thought she'd be. She's intelligent, and not horrible looking. Something about her intrigues me, and I can't get her out of my mind."

"Are you admitting to feeling an attraction for a Gryffindor?" Snape teased.

"Just an interest," Draco replied defensively before his eyes hardened, "But I'm no fool. She just broke up with Potter, and no matter how much she protests that they don't belong together, I know she misses him."

"Where do you think you are going with this?"

"I don't want to get too close to her, and yet I can't resist her friendship. How do I keep from getting myself hurt?"

"Decide that you only want to be friends and nothing more."

"Unfortunately, attraction does not work that way."

"Draco, you cannot help who you feel attracted to. If you want to pursue something with Miss Weasley, then wait until she's recovered a bit and take it from there. If not, then look elsewhere, but do not make yourself a slave to a dream."

"What if she never recovers, like you?"

Snape frowned. "As I said, you cannot allow yourself to be a slave to a dream. For the record, though, Lily is not the only reason I have remained single. I simply haven't met many women I would care to share my life with. Besides, my lifestyle was not conducive to a family."

"That's an understatement," Draco mused. "Thank you, Uncle Severus."

"That's what godfathers are for."

Draco smirked. "Father would explode if I ever married Ginevra."

"All the more reason to take it one step at a time," Snape warned.

Draco's smirk only widened.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, reviewing! I appreciate all of your support! Thanks also to Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Fey for all their help!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

"Headmaster Snape?"

Snape closed the book he'd been reading with a snap and glanced up to see the silhouette of a woman in the doorway. "What brings you here, Minerva?"

McGonagall stepped over the thresh hold, her eyes brimming with concern. "I tried to speak with you this afternoon, but you were not in your office."

"I was at Malfoy Manor," he replied. "Why did you need to speak with me?"

"It's about Hermione and her independent research," Minerva began as she sank into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"I know I should have asked her more about it…"

"So she did ask your permission to borrow those books?"

"She caught me just as I was about to floo to Malfoy Manor and asked if she could borrow a few more books for her research. Since you have been documenting which volumes survived the war, I assumed that you could handle the situation."

"I see," Minerva answered as she pulled out two pieces of parchment from a pocket in her robes."

"Minerva, is there something I should be aware of concerning Ms. Granger's project?" Snape asked.

"Just look at the books she requested."

Snape examined the first parchment and shook his head. "These are just books on Wizarding medicine. They should be of no concern."

"Now read the other list."

Snape set the first list aside to study the other. He frowned when he read the titles. "She neglected to tell me that she was researching dark magic."

"I did not know what to make of her request to borrow those books," Minerva answered, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Did you allow her to take them?"

"Under the condition that she return them tomorrow morning."

Snape shook his head. "Is there any part of your research that would involve dark magic?"

"No," Minerva answered. "I honestly have no idea why she would want those books."

"You don't think she's experimenting in the Dark Arts?"

"Absolutely not!" Minerva exclaimed, offended at the very thought. "She has spent her entire adolescence fighting the Dark Lord. She knows from experience how destructive dark magic can be. Hermione Granger would never embrace the Dark Arts for herself."

Snape compared the two lists with concern as Minerva continued, "But I can't for the life of me understand why she'd need those books if her research didn't involve dark magic. This is all so unlike her."

"Don't forget that half of the books she took were on Wizarding Medicine," Snape noted.

"Do you think she's trying to help someone who is under some sort of dark curse?"

"That would be a reasonable assumption..." Snape suddenly seemed lost in thought.

"Who? Who do you think is cursed?" Minerva asked.

"I do not know for certain," Snape answered as he felt his stomach tighten. "She had a book on dark magic with her the year they left school, did she not?"

"Something that explained Horcruxes, I understand, but I don't know just what it was or where it might be now…"

"_Secrets of the Darkest Art_," Snape muttered.

"Maybe. I honestly forgot the title. She just mentioned it once in passing…." Minerva stared at him, trying to decipher his expression. "What are you thinking?"

"She claimed that she didn't use dark magic to save my life," Snape hissed as an awful thought occurred to him. "She could not possibly understand the consequences of doing such a thing!"

"I beg your pardon?" Minerva's eyebrows shot up.

"She did something to me and now she realizes that there are consequences! I was foolish not to question her more thoroughly!"

"That makes no sense, Severus," Minerva interjected. "If you were cursed, you would certainly be showing some sort of symptom by now."

Snape stared long and hard at the witch as her words sunk in. Then he bowed his head and nodded. "You're right. I cannot think of any dark spells that could restore a life and maintain it for two months with no discernable effect on the one who lived."

"But it's possible that somebody else may still be affected by dark magic."

"So it seems."

A thoughtful silence ensued. Finally, Minerva spoke up, "As Headmaster, I think it would be wise of you to inquire further, Severus. Hermione may be getting in over her head."

"Would she not be more receptive to speaking about such a personal matter with you?" Snape asked.

"I cannot require her to tell me anything… but you can," Minerva answered.

"She will not appreciate speaking with me," Snape warned.

"She needs to speak with someone about this. Who better to consult than you? I am worried for her and for her friends. There is no way they could have seen and done what they did and come out of it perfectly unscathed. "

Snape sighed. "Fine, I will try to talk with her tomorrow when she returns the books."

"Thank you."

"You couldn't have had this revelation while you were still Headmistress?" Snape darted Minerva a penetrating glance.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Severus." McGonagall retorted over her shoulder as she made her exit.

* * *

><p>Hermione absently wiped her eyes with a tissue as she scrutinised the passage she had been reading. She had been clinging to the hope that there would be answers in this book, but so far there were none to be found. Was there really that little medical research on treating Dark curses?<p>

A stifled sob covered the sound of the Floo activating behind her. Crookshanks growled as he sprang from his perch and rushed to confront the intruder.

"Crookshanks, be quiet," Hermione groaned.

"Nice kitty," soothed a familiar male voice.

Hermione caught her breath, then turned around and forced a smile. "Hi, Ron. I didn't hear you come in."

"Of course you didn't. Your nose is in a book as usual," Ron replied with an affectionate smile.

Crookshanks growled another warning. "That's enough, Crooks," Hermione scolded.

The half-kneazle glared at her and strutted off to the bedroom in furry disgust while Hermione accepted Ron's embrace. "How are you doing, 'Mione?"

"Just fine," Hermione answered with a reassuring squeeze. "What brings you here?"

"I have a surprise for you," he whispered in her ear.

"What is it?" she asked, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes.

"I was thinking that since you've been working so hard you might need to get out of the house for a while... So I got us two tickets to the Chudley Cannons game."

Hermione's stomach sank. "Ron, I'm not in the mood."

"Of course you aren't, so I thought that after the game we might go to that Wizarding art museum you've wanted to see for so long."

"Oh Ron, that's wonderful!" Then Hermione's face fell. "But I really can't, not tonight."

"Hermione, you've been working too hard lately. Let's just spend an evening together doing something for us."

Ron leaned in and captured her lips with all the persuasion he could muster. A little breathless, she reluctantly but firmly pushed him away. "I am really not in the mood to go out tonight."

"Fine," Ron shrugged. "We can just hang out here. I'll give my tickets to Harry."

"I don't think I'd be very good company tonight, Ron," Hermione replied, darting a glance at the pile of books spread across her table.

"You're always good company," Ron smiled. "Just a little break?"

"Not tonight. I'm not feeling well."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, Ron. Just go, watch the Quidditch game, and have fun."

"Hermione, it isn't the same knowing you are home alone. Please let me at least fetch you some dinner."

Hermione conceded a small smile. "I suppose that wouldn't be too much."

"What sounds good?"

"How about some gung-pao chicken?"

"Great. I'll get right on it. It's a nice night to stay inside anyway. I'll just give Harry my tickets and then I'll be back in a tick." He kissed her on the cheek.

"Sounds great," Hermione answered weakly.

Ron grabbed a handful of floo powder, called out Harry's address, then disappeared in a flash of green smoke. Hermione sighed wearily, then stuffed the books back into her bag.


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Thanks so much for putting this on alert, favoriting, reading, and of course, for reviewing! I'm so glad that people like this story! Thanks also to Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Fey for helping!**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

"Headmaster Snape?"

"Come in, Ms. Granger," Snape replied distractedly without looking up from the parchment he was studying.

Hermione settled into the chair in front of his desk and patiently waited for him to finish. "Minerva said you wanted to see me," she offered when he finally looked up.

"I do."

Snape looked at her speculatively, causing her to instinctively shrink in her seat.

Hermione swallowed uncomfortably. Even though they were now on more equal terms, she couldn't help but feel like a first year under his intense gaze. Hermione scrubbed her sweaty palms on her robes.

"Minerva said you returned the books you borrowed."

"I did," she answered. "But I'm afraid I'll need to borrow them again. I didn't have a chance to finish everything last night."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You were expecting to finish six books in one night?"

"Just the relevant parts," she answered, shifting nervously in her seat. "Is there a problem with the books, Headmaster?"

"You neglected to tell me that half of them were on Dark Magic," Snape replied pointedly.

"Oh." Hermione suppressed a shiver. Even sitting down he seemed to tower over her. She gathered her resolve and reminded herself that she was no longer a student, but a capable, qualified researcher. "Minerva approved the transaction, Headmaster."

"That she did, but she has expressed concern to me as to why you might need even one book on Dark Magic, let alone three. What are you researching, Miss. Granger?"

"Known and potential reversals for dark spells, sir."

"Is that not a job for a Mediwitch or a Healer?"

"It would be if they weren't so overwhelmed by the sheer number of those injured in the war. Right now most of the Healers' efforts are focused on simply keeping people alive. They know many of their patients have been afflicted by some pretty devastating dark spells, but as of yet they can only treat the symptoms. I'd like to research reversing the spells, themselves, for a more permanent solution."

Snape eyed her calculatingly. Finally, he spoke, "A noble endeavour, Miss. Granger. Is there anyone in particular who has inspired your research?"

"Not really," Hermione hedged. "I just remember going to St. Mungo's to visit you and watching the Mediwitches struggle to keep people alive. It was obvious that many of them were under some sort of dark spell, but the Healers had no idea what to do about it."

"Britain is sorely lacking in research pertaining to the Dark Arts."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "And I'd like to remedy that."

Her eyes darted to the parchment on his desk. She looked up at him questioningly. "_Carmen_?"

Snape scowled.

"_The Ring Cycle? Pagliacci? The Marriage of Figaro?" _

"I am creating a new curriculum for the Muggle Studies class. Instead of focusing on technological compensations for the Muggles' lack of magic, I thought we might turn the focus toward Muggle culture to better understand how they view their world. Opera seemed to be a good starting point."

"It is one of their highest art forms," Hermione marvelled before looking up at him. "What other plans do you have for the course?"

"I am reviewing some literature and some Muggle philosophy, as well as some Muggle music."

Hermione smiled. "This new curriculum sounds exciting. Who will be teaching it?"

Snape frowned. "Sadly, I have been unable to find a qualified candidate. Most are either purebloods who couldn't discern _Habanera _from hip-hop, or Muggleborns who have spent years divorcing themselves from their native culture."

"It's too bad so many Muggleborns felt they had to turn their backs on the world in which they were raised," Hermione replied. "But certainly there has to be _someone_ who is qualified to teach this course."

"We'll keep looking."

"I'd love to help if you think I could," Hermione offered.

"Under one condition."

"Yes?"

Snape's expression grew quite solemn. You will not perform Dark Magic without me present."

Hermione appeared thrown. "What?"

"Hermione, Dark Magic is not something you read about in a book; it's something you practice. That is why wizards who study Dark Magic are feared."

_Like you_, she silently winced.

"It is dangerous for you to begin training in Dark Magic unless you have someone who understands it overseeing your progress. For better or worse, I understand Dark Magic better than anyone else at Hogwarts. If you plan to pursue this project, you will need me to act as your mentor."

"Will you have time?"

"If you plan on pursuing this, I will make time."

"I see," Hermione replied. She shot another longing glance at the parchments on his desk before surrendering. "Fine."

"Good. We can begin this evening…"

"No," Hermione answered too quickly. Snape raised a questioning eyebrow. "I mean 'Not this evening, please'. Ron and I have plans."

"I see," Snape replied.

"I will be free the night after tomorrow."

"I suppose I could work you in then."

"Thank you," she answered. "Is that everything?"

"Not exactly."

Hermione inhaled cautiously as Snape continued, "Don't let Mr. Weasley hold you back."

"I won't," she answered, relieved. "Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome."

Hermione left the office with a skip in her step, ecstatic that she'd just unofficially wangled a position as Snape's apprentice.

Meanwhile, Snape stared down at the parchments. Hermione was holding something back. If they worked together long enough, perhaps he would learn exactly what it was.

* * *

><p>A branch snapped. The hooded man glanced about him, startled, only to realise that his was the offending foot. Cursing his inability to feel anything, he continued east.<p>

"My Lord," a voice murmured.

The hooded man turned to face his new companion, black robes continuing to swirl long after his body had stilled. "What are you doing away from the underworld?" the hooded man asked.

"I spoke with Thanatos, just as you requested."

"What did he say, Ploutus?" the hooded man asked.

"He said that he did not know what they did with any of his gifts."

A low grunt came from underneath the hood. "I warned him that it was a bad idea to give away those gifts so freely. Did he not understand the powers they contained?"

"With all due respect, I think Ker talked him into it."

"I wouldn't be surprised. She knew those gifts would prompt many violent deaths. She exists for violence," the hooded figure muttered as Ploutus shuddered.

"Shall I ask Ker if she knows where it is?"

"No. She will only incite carnage if we do. I shall have to continue searching for the stone myself."

"There is another reason for my visit," Ploutus interjected. "The artist has summoned a portion of Albus' spirit again. This will be the fiftieth time she has done so."

"I refuse to allow a portion of his soul to become part of a portrait," the figure answered. "If he were a just man I might consider it, but even the Beyond finds him revolting. I shall not allow it."

"Her persistence has become quite irritating," Ploutus complained.

"Then focus on something else!" the hooded figure demanded as Ploutus stepped back, nearly tripping over his cane. "She can't keep it up forever."

"Very well," Ploutus answered before sidestepping a rat scurrying past. "I do hope you find the Resurrection Stone soon. The underworld suffers from lack of leadership."

Low laughter echoed in the woods. "The souls will get more than enough leadership when I return."

"Very well, Charon. I will take my leave. The souls will be getting restless if I tarry much longer."

"That they will," Charon answered. "Farewell, Ploutus."

"Farewell."

The winged god vanished. Charon stared thoughtfully at the space he had vacated, then continued his search of the woods.


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Hey everyone! I suppose I should give an explanation for why I was gone. I got swamped with schoolwork and extracurricular stuff last week, and I kept forgetting to upload this. Then I went to my grandparents for Easter, so I had no Internet. But I am fine, and a little less busy. I will try to stay more consistent with uploading, but I can't guarantee anything anymore. Thanks so all those who are still reading this!**

**I don't own anything you'd reconize.**

"So you're a torero?" Demeter asked, eyes bright with interest.

"Si, senora. I have challenged many bulls," he answered with genuine modesty before taking a sip of beer.

"Sounds like lonely work," Demeter probed as something festive began to blare from the jukebox.

The torero sighed heavily. "Indeed I am quite lonely, but not because of my work." He bowed his head as he quietly added, "I have lost my love."

"I am so sorry." Demeter's voice dripped with feigned sympathy. "But a strong, attractive man like you will surely find love again."

"True love like I had is not so easily found."

"Alfonso!" someone called from across the bar.

The torero sighed an apology as he excused himself to greet his friend. Demeter smirked before taking a sip of wine.

"Mother," someone whispered.

She spun around with a frown. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I could ask you the same question," Ploutus replied.

"I am trying to find a man worthy of your sister and I believe I may have just been successful."

"Who?"

Demeter nodded at Alfonso, who was now speaking with another man across the room, receiving a shy smile in return. "He is a lonely torero who just lost his love. Unlike Hades, he is respectful, kind, and bravely faces danger every time he steps into the bull ring…"

"And he's a homosexual," Ploutus smirked.

Demeter scowled, "Excuse me?"

"He's gay. The love he lost was named Roberto. He died in a car accident six weeks after they were married."

"Oh." Demeter sagged back into her seat.

"You've been searching the world for a partner for Persephone and the best you could come up with is Alfonso?"

"I have high standards," Demeter growled.

"Apparently," Ploutus replied.

"Why are you here anyway?" she huffed.

"I came to report that Aphrodite's plan has failed."

"Oh? How?"

"The ginger git and Persephone are still together."

"Don't be so sure," a voice interrupted from a nearby table.

Demeter's gaze shifted to the right to settle on Aphrodite and Eros, each casually nursing a wine glass. "What are you two doing here?"

"We were just in the neighborhood. Spain is glorious this time of year, is it not?"

"That, it is," Demeter cooed, "Nursing the wounds from your failed endeavor?"

"Who said that our endeavor has failed?" Aphrodite asked. "From where I am sitting it appears to have been quite successful."

"You have an odd definition of success," Ploutus noted before turning to Eros. "I thought success would be determined when the couple you wanted together shared in their first impassioned kiss."

"That is correct," Eros noted before taking a sip of red wine. Smiling in satisfaction, he set the goblet down and continued, "But when you've been in the business of love as long as I have you understand that road bumps are inevitable."

"The ginger git seems to be more than a mere road bump," Ploutus smirked. "My sister loves him."

"Love is a strong word for what they feel," Eros answered. "I prefer 'unintelligible attraction'."

"Be that as it may, my daughter is still with the git," Demeter interrupted impatiently.

"I'm sure she will come to her senses in due time, but whether she decides to stay with the ginger git or find a new lover, the outcome will be more dependent upon us than on you." Aphrodite countered.

"A mother can easily overrule poor choices when it comes to love," Demeter warned.

"Most mothers who try, fail."

Demeter smirked. "Most mothers are not me." She then straightened herself and announced, "I must take my leave. It's been a pleasure."

"As you say," Aphrodite smiled into her wine.

Demeter glided out of the bar with all the composure she could muster. Ploutus began to follow until Aphrodite halted him, "Where do you think you are going?"

"To the underworld," Ploutus answered.

"Why did you leave in the first place?" Eros asked. "I thought Charon needed everyone to remain there until the Resurrection Stone was found."

"I needed to report on a situation regarding an artist and a soul."

Eros answered with alarm, "Who is watching Ker?"

"Her mother, Nyx, can rein her in."

"I hope you are right," Eros answered.

"Your concern is unfounded," Ploutus replied, glancing down at his wrist. "But it will be a moot point when I return." He gave them both a pointed look. "I am more than capable of controlling Ker."

"I hope you're right," Aphrodite answered.

With a POP, Ploutus vanished into thin air, drawing a few frowns and muttered curses from the Muggle patrons, who soon returned to their drinks.

This wasn't the first time the jukebox had "blown a fuse".

Hermione groaned as she reread the page. Although she was confident that she understood the basic instructions to cast the spell, she wanted to be sure that she could perform them for Headmaster Snape should the opportunity present itself. The last thing she needed was to look like a dunderhead in front of her Headmaster…

Crookshanks mewed as he rubbed up against her leg. She smiled before giving him a quick scratch on the head, never once diverting her eyes from the book. Crookshanks glared with dissatisfaction at her lack of attention and began purring louder. Hermione smiled as she began to knead his back, still refusing to look away from the book. Crookshanks nuzzled her hand and meowed once again. Hermione sighed before sternly eyeing him. "I'll feed you in a moment."

She then glanced outside and whispered, "Shit. Ron."

Hermione fled to her room, digging through the cupboard for something to wear in the few seconds she had to prepare for her date. Crookshanks lay down on the floor and huffed, resigned that he'd have to finish the food in his bowl before Hermione would give him more.


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: Thanks so much for reading, putting this on alert, favoriting, and of course, reviewing! It's nice to know that everyone's sticking with me even though my updating has been erratic at best.**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Hermione absently twirled angel hair pasta around her fork as the soft conversation of her fellow restaurant patrons droned hypnotically in the background. She glanced up at Ron, who had just taken another bite of chicken. He did not return her gaze, far more interested, it would seem, in his chicken than in her. Hermione set her fork down and gathered her thoughts. Part of her wanted to discuss Snape's offer to instruct her in Dark Magic, but she wasn't quite ready to explain to Ron why it was necessary for her research. He would inevitably ask. She could make up some plausible excuse, but Ron would still object to Snape as her tutor. The last thing she needed tonight was to deal with another one of Ron's temper tantrums.

That conversation was painfully predictable.

"I'm thinking of trying out for the Chudley Cannons next season." Ron suddenly announced.

"That's great," Hermione flashed a smile she hoped looked sincere. "I'm happy for you."

Ron stared at her as though he expected her to say something more, but her gaze returned to her plate. She retrieved her fork and shifted the pasta and chicken around a little more.

"How would you feel about my being gone for six months at a time?" Ron pressed.

"You-you'd be following your dream. Sometimes dreams require sacrifice," Hermione answered softly as she raised her eyes to meet his.

"I'd have to do some serious training before I could try out."

"The way they played the last time we saw them, the whole team could use a bit of 'serious training'." Hermione grinned.

Ron chuckled. "True."

They shared a brief moment of understanding, then Hermione returned to her meal. Ron stared at her intently, then exhaled and took another big bite of chicken as the silence between them lengthened once more. Hermione remembered nights during the war when she and Ron would cling to each other in their terror. No words were necessary then; in fact, they would have seemed redundant in the face of the comfortable silent understanding they had established.

This was not one of those comfortable intimate silences, but rather an awkward gulf growing between them. The silence needed to be addressed, but Hermione couldn't find the words to do so.

"So you'd support my playing a sport you barely understand?"

"I just said that I was happy that you were following your dreams," Hermione answered, a bit more irritably than she'd intended.

Ron recoiled, causing Hermione to sigh an apology. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Ron answered. "It just feels like we should talk about this more."

"What more is there to discuss? You want to play Quidditch and I support you. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't know. It's a big decision. Maybe I just need to talk in order to process it all. It seems like something we should arrive at together."

Hermione exhaled. "What are we doing, Ron?"

"What do you mean?"

Hermione shook her head. "We have next to nothing in common."

"That's not true!" Ron interjected, his eyes flashing in protest. "We fought in a war together, side by side through…" The light faded from his eyes when he realised what he'd nearly said. He bowed his head. "…well, almost the whole time."

"What else do we have, Ron?"

"We have all those years together at Hogwarts—classes, adventures…."

"We spent half of those years fighting."

"We had a lot of good times, too."

"But is that really enough to build a life on? We were just kids, Ron. Granted, kids placed in extraordinary circumstances, but kids just the same."

Ron slumped back in his chair. "What are you trying to say, Hermione?"

"I…" Hermione snapped her mouth closed.

"Don't you love me?" Ron almost whispered.

"No!" Hermione answered. "No! It's just that Harry and Ginny's break up has set me to thinking."

"We aren't like them!" Ron exclaimed as he grasped Hermione's hand. "We're different."

"How? We're friends who have only a few things in common, just like Harry and Ginny. Time seems to be the only thing keeping us together."

"What on earth has got you thinking this way?" Ron asked before his eyes flickered in anger. "Is there someone else?"

"Merlin, no!" Hermione gasped. "It's just that when you were talking about becoming a Quidditch player, I began to wonder if I would just hold you back."

"How could loving someone hold me back?"

"Ron, my life is going in a different direction. I'm focusing more on my research, and you don't seem to care much about that."

"That's not true!"

"We hardly discuss it."

"So you'd love me more if I could discuss your research with you?"

"Ron, I love you, but it's not the kind of love that could sustain us in a relationship, much less a marriage."

"But I can only see myself with you."

Tears began to well in Hermione's eyes. "And I've only ever seen myself with you, but I don't think we have the same vision of our future any more."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to spend my time researching, perhaps teaching, but children…they are out of the question for me."

Ron's eyes grew. "What? I thought you wanted children."

Tears now spilled down Hermione's cheeks. "Some things change."

"Is it that you do not want children, or that you do not want children with me?" Ron asked softly.

"Does that even matter if we aren't right for each other? What is the good of having children if we can barely talk to each other?"

Ron's eyes flickered in understanding. "I always wanted to teach our children Quidditch. You can barely tolerate flying."

"Exactly," Hermione answered as she took a shaky breath and dried her eyes.

"So, that's it then? We're just done?"

"Don't you think it's for the best?"

Ron took a deep breath, then nodded as he whispered, "Yes."

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand. "We're still friends."

"I know," Ron answered as he released her hand. "This will be fun to tell Harry."

"We have to figure out a way to tell him before the Daily Prophet gets wind of it."

"Agreed," Ron breathed. "It…it almost feels like I'm losing a second family."

"Ron, I'll always be here for you... to listen, offer support, whatever you need. I promise."

Ron gave her a small smile. "Thanks, 'Mione."

She returned his smile. "I really think we're better off as friends."

"Someday I'm sure I'll agree," Ron answered before staring at the food in front of him. "Now what? It feels weird just to sit here."

Hermione sighed. "I can pay for this."

"No, I can help out," Ron replied as he reached into his pocket. "It's the least I can do."

"You really don't have to."

"I insist," Ron answered before pulling out a few sickles. "Here, this should cover my part."

"Thank you," Hermione replied.

Ron kissed her on the cheek. "If you need me, I'm around."

"I know," Hermione answered.

Ron nodded before walking away. Hermione stared at the food and took a deep breath, hoping she'd done the right thing in letting Ron go.


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Thanks so much for all the reviews, reading, putting this on alert, favoriting, and of course, reading! I'm so glad that everyone enjoyed the breakup. Also thanks for Heartmom88 and Marianne Le Fey for all their help!  
><strong>

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.  
><strong>

"So that's it, then?" Harry asked. "You just let her go?"

"Yep," Ron answered, taking a generous gulp of beer. "I paid for my meal and left." He chuckled mirthlessly. "It just felt so weird. You'd think I would've fought harder for her."

"I'm surprised you two didn't at least argue a little," Harry mused.

"Trust me, I was surprised, too. As volatile as we were together, it's odd that it all ended so quietly."

"Well, maybe after she thinks things over, she'll reconsider." Harry took a long sip of his lager.

Ron shook his head. "No, I think she's pretty set in her decision. She just wants to be friends, which may be for the best."

"Really?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

Ron nodded. "Don't get me wrong Mate, I miss her like crazy already, but if I'm honest with myself, most of what she said was right. Everything about our relationship was based on the fact that we fought in a war. Now that we aren't fighting together anymore, what is holding us together?"

Harry bowed his head with a sigh, "Like me and Ginny."

"Hermione needs someone much smarter than I am, someone who can take an interest in her research. As for me, well, I would like a girl I could take to a Quidditch game who wouldn't spend half the time wishing she was somewhere else."

"Hermione tried to enjoy them…"

"But her eyes glazed over every time I tried to discuss the Cannons with her," Ron exhaled. "Which is probably how I looked when she brought up her research. Man, Harry, I was right."

"Right about what?"

"When I was at Mr. Dionysius' party, I told her that she was boring to talk to. Once I sobered up I thought it was the wine talking, but now I'm not so sure…"

"That's the breakup talking," Harry replied as Ron took another gulp. "You're just trying to justify Hermione's leaving you."

"Maybe," Ron admitted. "But if the idea that Hermione and I were never fit for each other helps me move on after training, then I'll be fine."

"Training?"

"I'm going to the Cannons' training camp in Ireland next week. Of course I'll have to make the final cut…"

"You'll do great!" Harry answered, congratulating his friend with a thump on the back.

"I know, I just wish I had Hermione there to back me up."

"She said she supported you."

"I know," Ron sighed, draining his mug dry.

Harry smiled. "Just think; you're on your way to becoming a Cannon!"

Ron smiled for the first time all night. "Want another drink? This one's on me!"

"Sure."

* * *

><p>Hermione stepped into Headmaster Snape's office, schooling her expression to mask her eagerness to begin. She found Snape at his desk hunched over a pile of documents, scribbling something on a parchment. She debated the wisdom of announcing herself but finally opted to stand quietly until he finished.<p>

"Ms. Granger?" Snape intoned without looking up from his work.

"Yes?" Hermione answered in a voice weaker than she'd intended.

Snape eyed her sharply, then nodded to a chair. "Have a seat. I am almost finished."

"What are you doing?" she asked as she sat down and crossed her legs at the ankle, trying with limited success to read one of the parchments upside down.

"Reviewing applications for the Muggle Studies position."

"Any promising candidates?"

"A few," he answered, edging one towards her with a mildly reprimanding brow.

Hermione read it with undisguised interest. "Philology?"

"The study of languages. His background also includes philosophy, ancient theatre, and Wagnerian opera."

"That's….eclectic, almost random."

"Indeed," Snape answered, "But he may be just the type of person we are looking for. Surely an improvement over Alecto Carrow."

"Or Professor Quirrell before he took over the Dark Arts position."

"Indeed."

Snape gathered the papers into a pile. "However, I do not believe you have come to discuss our search for a new Muggle Studies professor."

"No," Hermione answered as Snape stood. "I was hoping we could begin my sessions in the Dark Arts."

"We shall if I find that you are ready."

"I've been reading the theory…" Hermione began.

Snape silenced her with a cold look. "I believe I have already told you that it isn't possible to comprehend the Dark Arts by reading about them. They must be practiced to be understood. Furthermore, if you do not want the Dark Arts to control you, you must have a guide. I will be your guide."

Hermione swallowed thickly as he strolled around his desk to stand before her. His right hand was clenched into a fist. The intensity of his expression sent a shudder down her spine. "I understand."

"Good," Snape raised his arm and opened his fist, releasing a fly into the air. "We will begin with something you already know. Imperio the fly."

"What?" Hermione said, irritably batting at the insect as it buzzed around her face.

"I assure you that it will be perfectly legal for you to do so. I have already informed the Ministry of these sessions and they have given their consent, provided that you use the knowledge you gain for the good of the Wizarding World. I have every confidence you will."

"I will," she affirmed before drawing her wand. "Imperio!"

The insect stopped in midair, then soared to the ceiling as Hermione watched, brow furrowed in concentration. It then dove between them and landed on Headmaster Snape's nose, earning a scowl from the older man. Hermione smirked as the fly lunged back into the air, landing once more on the desk.

"Good. Now cast a Cruciatus Curse."

"What?" Hermione stared at him incredulously.

"You know the spell, now cast it."

Hermione felt her heart pound within her chest. "No," she answered.

"Do you want to learn the Dark Arts or not?"

"I won't do it!"

"Release the fly," Snape ordered.

The fly flew from the desk and out into the darkness of the room. Hermione's eyes were wide and her breathing, deep. "That is exactly why you need training," Snape began. "You believe that Dark Magic is evil."

"It is evil!" she shot back. "Causing pain for the sake of causing pain…."

"Ah… but it has not always been so. Wizards from other time periods used it for other purposes, for instance, preventing needless bloodshed during duels." Hermione gave him a puzzled look. "In early duels, all that was required for victory was to knock one's opponent off his feet. The Cruciatus, if cast weakly, allowed one to knock down his opponent with minimal bloodshed and few long term effects."

"So it wasn't always used for torture?"

"No," Snape replied. "Unfortunately, once its potential for torture was revealed, too many people used it that way, which is why the Ministry banned it, at least nominally."

"Nominally?"

"The Ministry has used it quite liberally on criminals."

"I see," Hermione lowered her head thoughtfully.

Snape put a hand on her shoulder, "I did not intend to cause you pain or to conjure unpleasant memories. But there are perceptions of Dark magic you take for granted, perceptions that must be altered if you wish to become knowledgeable about the Dark Arts."

"I understand," Hermione looked up at him with a soft smile.

"I believe I've given you enough to think about tonight. During our next session we will examine dark creatures, beginning with Grindylows."

"I've seen a few of those." Hermione's smile grew.

"I know a place in the lake where we can examine them closely without attracting notice, but it will have to be in the afternoon when they are most active."

"I have tomorrow off."

"I will be interviewing candidates the rest of this week. Perhaps Saturday will do."

"I'll clear my schedule. Thank you, Headmaster Snape."

"You are welcome, Ms. Granger."

As she strolled out of the room, Snape returned to his desk and picked up the application on top of the pile. Philology was an unusual course of study in the Wizarding World, indeed. Even more unusual was the name.

Friedrich Oehler.


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: Thanks so much for all the reviews, putting this on alert, favoriting, and reading. Sadly, this may be the last chapter posted for awhile. I'm swamped with schoolwork and need to focus on other things right now. Hopefully I'll be able to post again soon.**

**I don't own anything you'd recognize.**

Snape scowled, determined to finish the sentence he was writing in spite of the persistent knocking on his office door. "Severus!"

"In a moment, Minerva," he answered, crossing the final "t" with a flourish. With a long-suffering sigh, he leant back in his chair and intoned, "Enter."

Minerva stepped through the door, scrutinising the stack of papers littering the headmaster's desk. "Have you made any progress on finding a new Muggle Studies professor?"

"I was just now writing to the prospective candidates."

"I apologise for interrupting, then." Minerva absently smoothed her fingers along the top of one of the office chairs. "I will not be long. I just came to inquire about Hermione's Dark Arts training."

Snape glared at her. "Why should that concern you? Do you not think I'm capable of fostering her skill in the Dark Arts without allowing them to consume her?"

"Of course I think you're capable!" Minerva argued. "But there are certain recent developments that concern me. They should also concern you."

"Spit it out, Minerva."

Minerva exhaled. "Harry came by today, looking for Hermione."

"And…"

"He wanted to see how she was handling her breakup with Mr. Weasley."

Snape's eyes flickered. "She and Weasley are no longer a couple?"

"Apparently they broke up after dinner a few nights ago."

"She did not appear distressed when we worked together yesterday," Snape commented.

"She seemed in fine spirits to me as well, but then again she may be suppressing her feelings."

"As long as she remains professional and performs her duties, I see no issue here."

"Do you honestly think it's a good idea for a woman who has just lost her first love to experiment with Dark Magic?"

Snape grimaced and straightened in his chair. "Ms. Granger is a remarkably focussed student. I sincerely doubt that her study of the Dark Arts has anything to do with Mr. Weasley. "

"She is vulnerable right now, susceptible to the allure of an easier life. Her parents are still missing, her boyfriend is gone, and she's transitioning into the beginning of a new career…"

"With all due respect, Minerva," Snape interrupted in a low voice. "Hermione is not a child. She is an adult woman capable of making her own choices, including whether or not to succumb to the allure of the Dark. Ms. Granger will make the correct decision." His voice quieted to a whisper. "I trust her. If I did not trust her, I would never have offered to teach her the Dark Arts."

"I am afraid for her soul."

"Souls can be repaired," Snape countered.

"Not without difficulty, Severus. You, of all people, should understand that. I'd hate to see Hermione start down a path she would later regret."

"What you are trying so hard not to say is that you do not want her to go down _my_ path," Snape retorted. Minerva's gaze dropped to her shoes, confirming his suspicion. "I've already told you that I trust Hermione. Furthermore, we both know that if I do not teach her the Dark Arts, she will find a way to learn on her own. She thinks it will help her with her research."

"And just what exactly is it that she is researching?" Minerva blurted.

"I don't know yet, but I will find out."

"Well, _do_ find out and steer her clear of the Dark path, Severus. Surely there is a better way to accomplish her goals."

"I will take your concerns into consideration."

Snape lowered his head and pulled out a piece of clean parchment from his desk. Minerva cleared her throat, but Snape did not look up. Finally she concluded, "Let us hope you are every bit the competent mentor you fancy yourself to be."

"I assure you that I do not overestimate my abilities," Snape answered as his quill scratched a new salutation on the parchment.

Minerva sighed and stalked out the door.

* * *

><p>Harry crept past the rows of bookshelves, peering in between for his bushy-haired friend. He finally found her at a secluded table hunched over a thick volume, oblivious to the rest of the world. He smiled at the sight, pulled up a chair beside her, and whispered, "I should have expected to find you in the library."<p>

Hermione glanced up and grinned. "Harry, I didn't even hear you."

Harry cast a muffliato and continued, "I tried to find you over your lunch break, but Minerva said that you had the day off."

"I do," Hermione replied. "So I decided to do some research."

"On what?" Harry asked, leaning in for a glimpse. Hermione slid the book to her lap, earning a quizzical glance from her friend.

"This research is private."

"Private?" Harry asked. "I'm your friend, Hermione."

"I know, but…" Hermione considered her words, then constructed a careful half-truth. "Headmaster Snape and I are conducting some new research."

"What?" Harry asked.

"I'm helping Headmaster Snape with some research but he wants me to keep it a secret."

"Why?"

"Well, you know he's sort of used to keeping secrets… plus I'm sure he doesn't want anyone to steal his research."

"I see," Harry replied sceptically.

"Anyway, you never told me why you were looking for me."

Harry exhaled. "I talked to Ron last night."

Hermione frowned. "So he told you about our breakup."

"Yes," Harry answered.

Hermione shook her head. "How is he doing?"

"As well as can be, all things considered. He's confused, somewhat sad, and I think he misses you."

"I'm sorry,' Hermione sighed. "I never intended to hurt him."

"I think this whole breakup just came out of the blue for him."

"It honestly was unexpected for me, as well."

"Oh?"

Hermione nodded. "I thought Ron and I would be together forever, but while we were eating dinner I just kept thinking how little we had in common… how neither of us enjoyed the things that were most important to the other. Suddenly, I don't know, I just couldn't see us together anymore."

"Ron said as much."

"I hope he's all right…"

"He's planning on attending a Quidditch training camp in Ireland."

Hermione gave Harry a small smile. "I'm happy for him. He's finally chasing his dream. Maybe now he'll find someone more suited for him than I am."

"We'll see." Harry tried to imagine Ron and Hermione with new partners, but it was going to take some getting used to.

"We promise not to make things awkward for you," Hermione continued as if she had read his mind.

Harry's thoughts returned to the present. "Don't worry about me. It's not like I'm your child or anything. I'm honestly more worried about you. How are you taking this?"

Hermione slumped a little in her chair. "I honestly feel remarkably numb."

"Numb?"

"I don't know if the breakup hasn't sunken in, or if I truly feel nothing. I expected to wake up crying, or feeling like the world had just ended. Instead, I woke up feeling… nothing. The world seemed different, but I can't say that I was sad. I went to work, helped the Headmaster with his research, and felt nothing. When I went home I expected to burst into a crying jag, but instead I just went to bed. Even today I expected to cry, but I really haven't. It's almost," Hermione choked, "I hate to say this, but it's as if I've cried so much for Ron over the years that I don't have any tears left for him." She buried her head in her hands, "That sounds perfectly awful."

Harry put a hand on Hermione's shoulder as she groaned. "It's fine, Hermione. No one can tell you how to feel about your breakup."

"I know. Maybe after fighting Voldemort for so long I just feel drained."

"You…you called him…"

"Voldemort," Hermione answered as she looked up. "Yes, I know. It just seems pointless to call him the Dark Lord anymore. The war is over. He can't control us or summon his Death Eaters from the grave, can he? Why not use his name?"

"I suppose you have a point," Harry answered with a wry grin. "So are you going to be fine without Ron?"

"Eventually. I miss Ron, don't get me wrong. It won't be fun eating dinner alone, and I'll miss discussing my research with someone who is listening because he cares. Still, I do believe that this is the right decision."

"If you think that breaking up is the right thing to do, then all I can do is support you two. Whatever happens, we'll still be friends."

Hermione leaned over and embraced him. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry clung to his friend, pondering how quickly their lives had changed.

* * *

><p><em>Finally<em>, the figure thought as he lifted his head. _Finally, someone has mentioned my name. If…if I'd only known that in the otherworld you could only keep track of the living if they said your name, I never would have made it a taboo curse. What a stupid idea._

He blinked and winced in the blinding light. Every movement was an exertion of his will, but if he could just strain long enough to listen, he might learn something useful. The longer he listened, the wider his toothy smile grew. It had been a long time since he had had cause to smile.

_If I can just call out_, he thought_. Just one call…_

He opened his mouth and rasped, _"Ploutus."_


End file.
